IBRARY 


THE  UNIVERSITY 


OF  CAL IFORNIA 


LOS  ANGELES 


RHYTHM,    MUSIC 
AND  EDUCATION 


I 


RHYTHM,    MUSIC 
AND  EDUCATION 


BY 

EMILE  JAQUES-DALCROZE 


TRANSLATED     FROM    THE    FRENCH 
BY  HAROLD  F.  RUBINSTEIN 


ILLUSTRATED 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

NEW  YORK   AND    LONDON 

Ube  "ffmicfeerbocfcer  press 


RHYTHM.  MUSIC  AND  EDUCATION 
^V- 

Copyright,  1921 

by 
Emile  Jaques-Dalcroze 

Published,  June,  1921 

Second  Impression,  February,  1928 

Third  Impression,  July,  1931 

All  rights  reserved.    This  book,  or  parts  thereof,  must 
not   be   reproduced   in  any   form   without   permission. 


Made  in  the  United  States  of  America 


fid./iwh. 

Library 

MT 
It 

Allrh 


To  my  friend 
ADOLPHB  APPIA 


FOREWORD 


TWENTY-FIVE  years  ago  I  made  my  debut  in  pedagogy, 
as  Professor  of  Harmony  at  the  Conservatoire  of  Ge- 
neva. After  the  first  few  lessons,  I  noticed  that  the  ears 
of  my  pupils  were  not  able  to  appreciate  the  chords 
which  they  had  to  write,  and  I  concluded  that  the  flaw 
in  the  conventional  method  of  training  is  that  pupils 
are  not  given  experience  of  chords  at  the  beginning  of 
their  studies — when  brain  and  body  are  developing 
along  parallel  lines,  the  one  constantly  communicating  its 
impressions  and  sensations  to  the  other — but  that  this 
experience  is  withheld  until  the  time  arrives  to  express 
the  results  in  writing.  Accordingly  I  decided  to  pre- 
cede my  lessons  in  written  harmony  by  special  exercises 
of  a  physiological  nature  aimed  at  developing  the  hear- 
ing faculties,  and  I  was  not  long  in  discovering  that, 
while  with  older  students  acoustic  sensations  were  hin- 
dered by  futile  intellectual  preconceptions,  children  ap- 
preciated them  quite  spontaneously,  proceeding  in  due 
course  quite  naturally  to  their  analysis. 

I  therefore  set  about  training  the  ears  of  my  pupils 
as  early  as  possible,  and  discovered  thereby  not  only  that 
the  hearing  faculties  develop  with  remarkable  ease  at  a 
stage  when  every  new  sensation  delights  the  child,  and 
stimulates  in  him  a  joyful  curiosity,  but,  in  addition, 
that  once  the  ear  is  trained  to  the  natural  sequences  of 
sounds  and  chords,  the  mind  no  longer  experiences  the 


1391824 


vi  Foreword 

slightest  difficulty  in  accustoming  itself  to  the  various 
processes  of  reading  and  writing. 

Nevertheless,  the  musical  progress  of  a  certain  num- 
ber of  pupils,  whose  ear  developed  at  normal  speed, 
appeared  to  me  to  be  retarded  by  an  incapacity  to 
estimate  with  any  exactitude  variations  of  time  and 
rhythmic  grouping.  The  mind  perceived  the  varia- 
tions, but  the  vocal  apparatus  was  unable  to  give  effect 
to  them.  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  motive 
and  dynamic  element  in  music  depends  not  only  on 
the  hearing,  but  also  on  another  sense.  This  I  took  at 
first  to  be  the  sense  of  touch,  seeing  that  metrical 
finger  exercises  conduce  unmistakably  to  the  pupil's 
progress.  Presently,  however,  a  study  of  the  reactions 
produced  by  piano-playing,  in  parts  of  the  body  other 
than  the  hands — movements  with  the  feet,  oscillations 
in  the  trunk  and  head,  a  swaying  of  the  whole  body, 
etc. — led  me  to  the  discovery  that  musical  sensations 
of  a  rhythmic  nature  call  for  the  muscular  and  nervous 
response  of  the  whole  organism.  I  set  my  pupils  exer- 
cises in  stepping  and  halting,  and  trained  them  to  react 
physically  to  the  perception  of  musical  rhythms.  That 
was  the  origin  of  my  "Eurhythmies,"  and  I  was 
sanguine  enough  to  believe  that  therewith  my  experi- 
mental labours  were  at  an  end,  and  that  I  might  now 
proceed  to  construct  a  rational  and  definite  system  of 
musical  education.  I  was  speedily  disillusioned !  I  soon 
discovered  that,  out  of  ten  children,  at  most  two  re- 
acted in  a  normal  manner;  that  the  motor-tactile  con- 
sciousness, the  combination  of  the  senses  of  space  and 
movement,  exists  in  a  pure  state  as  rarely  as  the  perfect 
sense  of  hearing  that  musicians  call  "absolute  pitch." 


Foreword  vii 

I  saw  the  lack  of  musical  rhythm  to  be  the  result  of  a 
general  "a-rhythm,"  whose  cure  appeared  to  depend  on 
a  special  training  designed  to  regulate  nervous  react- 
ions and  effect  a  co-ordination  of  muscles  and  nerves ; 
in  short,  to  harmonise  mind  and  body.  And  so  I  came 
to  regard  musical  perception,  which  is  entirely  auditive 
as  incomplete,  and  to  seek  the  connection  between  in- 
stincts for  pitch  and  movement,  harmonies  of  tone  and 
time-periods,  time  and  energy,  dynamics  and  space, 
music  and  character,  music  and  temperament,  finally 
the  art  of  music  and  the  art  of  dancing. 

The  story  of  my  researches,  my  gropings,  and  failures, 
as  of  my  definite  achievements,  may  be  found  in  the 
various  chapters  of  the  present  volume.  In  chrono- 
logical order,  these  chapters  record  my  ideas  as  devel- 
oped from  1897  to  the  present  day  in  lectures  and 
articles. r  The  reader  will  find  in  the  earlier  parts  of 
the  book  a  certain  number  of  contradictions,  and,  in 
the  latter,  some  repetition  of  views  expressed  previously 
in  a  different  form,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  this  series 
of  transformations  and  developments  out  of  an  original 
general  principle  may  be  of  interest  to  pedagogues  and 
psychologists;  that  is  why  I  discarded  my  original 
intention  of  recasting  all  the  articles  according  to 
a  definite  plan,  and  on  a  principle  of  unity.  It  may 
perhaps  be  of  advantage  to  educationalists  to  have  the 

1  Certain  of  the  last  chapters  have  not  previously  appeared  in  print. 
The  remainder  were  published  (some,  in  part  only)  in  the  Tribune 
de  Geneve  the  Semaine  Litteraire  the  Mercure  de  France,  the 
Monde  Musical,  the  Courrier  Musical,  the  Menestrel  and  the  Grande 
Review.  Finally  certain  of  them  have  appeared  in  an  abbreviated  form, 
in  reports  of  pedagogic  proceedings,  such  as  that  issued  by  the 
Association  of  Swiss  Musicians  on  the  Reform  of  Teaching  in  Schools. 


viii  Foreword 

opportunity  of  following  my  progress  through  all  its 
stages,  of  which  the  few  secondary  and  higher  schools 
already  launched  on  the  voyage  have  as  yet  only  tra- 
versed the  first.  They  will  bear  in  mind  that  the  idea 
underlying  the  conception  and  construction  of  my  whole 
system  is  that  the  education  of  to-morrow  must,  before 
all  else,  teach  children  to  know  themselves,  to  measure 
their  intellectual  and  physical  capacities  by  judicious 
comparison  with  the  efforts  of  their  predecessors,  and 
to  submit  them  to  exercises  enabling  them  to  utilise 
their  powers,  to  attain  due  balance,  and  thereby  to 
adapt  themselves  to  the  necessities  of  their  individual 
and  collective  existence. 

It  is  not  enough  to  give  children  and  young  people  a 
general  tuition  founded  exclusively  on  the  knowledge 
of  our  forbears'  activities.  Teachers  should  aim  at 
furnishing  them  with  the  means  both  of  living  their  own 
lives,  and  of  harmonising  these  with  the  lives  of  others. 
The  education  of  to-morrow  must  embrace  reconstruc- 
tion, preparation,  and  adaptation;  aiming,  on  the  one 
hand,  at  the  re-education  of  the  nervous  faculties  and 
the  attainment  of  mental  calm  and  concentration  and, 
on  the  other,  at  the  equipment  for  whatever  enterprise 
practical  necessity  may  dictate,  and  at  the  power  to  re- 
act without  effort;  in  short,  at  the  provision  of  a  maxi- 
mum force  with  a  minimum  of  strain  and  resistance. 

More  than  ever  in  these  times  of  social  reconstruc- 
tion, the  human  race  demands  the  re-education  of  the 
individual.  There  has  been  endless  discussion  as  to  the 
inevitable  effects  on  the  social  and  artistic  atmosphere 
of  the  future  of  the  present  unsettled  state,  in  which  it 
is  impossible  to  look  ahead  and  prescribe  the  necessary 


Foreword  ix 

measures  for  the  safeguarding  of  our  civilisation  and 
our  culture.  In  my  judgment,  all  our  efforts  should  be 
directed  to  training  our  children  to  become  conscious 
of  their  personalities,  to  develop  their  temperaments, 
and  to  liberate  their  particular  rhythms  of  individual 
life  from  every  trammelling  influence.  More  than  ever 
they  should  be  enlightened  as  to  the  relations  existing 
between  soul  and  mind,  between  the  conscious  and  the 
sub-conscious,  between  imagination  and  the  processes 
of  action.  Thoughts  should  be  brought  into  immediate 
contact  with  behaviour — the  new  education  aiming  at 
regulating  the  interaction  between  our  nervous  and 
our  intellectual  forces.  Fresh  from  the  trenches,  sol- 
diers should  be  able  to  continue  the  struggle  in  a  new 
guise;  and  in  the  schools,  our  teachers,  likewise,  should 
be  on  the  alert  to  combat  weakness  of  will  and  lack  of 
confidence,  and  to  train  the  fresh  generations  by  every 
possible  means  to  fight  for  self-mastery  and  the  power 
to  place  themselves,  fully  equipped,  at  the  service  of 
the  human  race. 

In  matters  of  art,  I  foresee  that  individual  efforts  will 
continue  to  attract  a  certain  public,  but  I  believe  that 
a  new  demand  for  collective  unity  will  drive  numerous 
persons,  formerly  estranged  from  art,  into  association 
for  the  expression  of  their  common  spirit.  And  from 
that  a  new  art  will  emerge,  compound  of  a  multitude 
of  aspirations,  of  different  degrees  of  strength,  but 
unanimous  in  the  quest  of  an  ideal  and  common  outlet 
for  emotion.  This  will  lead  to  the  call  for  a  psycho- 
physical  training  based  on  the  cult  of  natural  rhythms, 
and  which,  guided  by  the  collective  will— working,  may- 
be, sub-consciously — will  fill  an  increasingly  important 


x  Foreword 

part  in  civilised  life.  In  the  theatre  we  shall  be  shown 
dramas,  in  which  the  People  will  play  the  principal 
r61e,  emerging  as  an  entity,  instead  of  a  mere  conglom- 
eration of  supers.  We  shall  then  find  that  all  our  cur- 
rent ideas  on  play-producing  have  been  formed  out  of 
regard  for  the  individual,  instead  of  from  a  recognition 
of  the  resources  of  a  crowd  in  action.  We  shall  feel  the 
need  for  a  new  technique  in  the  grouping  of  crowds — 
such  as  the  brilliant  efforts  of  Gemier  and  Granville 
Barker  have  not  completely  attained  on  the  stage. 
Only  an  intimate  understanding  of  the  synergies  and 
conflicting  forces  of  our  bodies  can  provide  the  clue  to 
this  future  art  of  expressing  emotion  through  a  crowd; 
while  music  will  achieve  the  miracle  of  guiding  the 
latters'  movements — grouping,  separating,  rousing,  de- 
pressing, in  short,  "orchestrating"  it,  according  to  the 
dictates  of  natural  eurhythmies.  The  development  of 
the  emotions  will  enable  it  to  give  collective  expression 
to  them,  though  at  considerable  sacrifice  to  the  indi- 
vidual. New  forms  of  music  will  come  to  birth,  having 
the  power  of  animating  masses  of  people,  training  them 
in  the  many  processes  of  counterpointing,  phrasing,  and 
shading  musical  rhythms  with  a  view  to  their  plastic 
expression.  All  attempts  at  reviving  the  dance  have 
hitherto  proved  inadequate.  A  new  art  of  dancing  will 
accompany  the  new  music,  both  alike  inspired  by  an 
understanding  of  the  innumerable  resources  of  the  hu- 
man body,  allied  to  the  spiritual  essence,  idealism,  and 
sense  of  form  that  alone  can  give  solidity  to  any  art  in- 
spired by  the  imperative  dynamic  and  agogic  demands 
of  the  ever  fluctuating  human  temperament. 

I  leave  for  treatment  in  some  of  the  following  chap- 


Foreword  xi 

ters  my  observations  on  the  manifold  ways  of  corporal 
interpretation  of  the  lines  of  musical  sound.  My  de- 
sire, in  this  foreword,  is  to  record  my  deep  and  fervent 
conviction  that,  now  the  War  is  over,  the  coming  gen- 
eration will  experience  this  need  of  forming  groups  for 
the  expression  of  common  emotion,  and  that  a  new  art 
will  be  called  into  being,  created  spontaneously  by  all 
those  who  regard  music  as  a  magnificent  and  potent 
agent  for  the  inspiration  and  refinement  of  human 
gesture — and  this  latter  as  a  pre-eminently  "musical" 
emanation  of  our  desires  and  aspirations. 

E.  JAQUES-DALCROZE. 
GENEVA. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  AMERICAN  EDITION 

THE  characteristic  musical  tendencies  of  a  race  come  to 
light  in  rhythm.  The  union  of  nations,  socially  so  im- 
portant, should  be  based  on  the  interchange  and  balance 
of  temperaments  peculiar  to  the  various  races.  Music, 
in  the  Greek  sense  of  the  word,  is  the  art  in  which 
temperament  is  most  concretely  manifested.  It  is  thus 
important  that  each  race  be  given  the  means,  by  special 
training,  of  externalising  the  rhythm  peculiar  to  that  race. 
The  reduction  of  racial  temperaments  to  a  common  level 
would  be  disastrous  for  the  intellectual  progress  of  hu- 
manity. Unfortunately  international  musical  education 
attempts  to  measure  the  various  sensibilities  of  races  by 
a  common  formula,  and,  for  the  last  two  centuries,  the 
schools  have  been  reducing  the  rhythmic  habits  of  the 
most  diverse  nations  to  a  common  type. 

Education,  as  I  understand  it,  should  have  as  its  chief 
aim  the  suppression  of  resistances  of  every  nature  which 
hamper  the  individual  in  the  externalisation  of  his  char- 
acter, and  should,  further,  enable  him  in  the  most  natural 
manner  to  give  expression  to  his  sensibility  and  tempera- 
ment. Education  by  means  of  and  in  rhythm  has  noth- 
ing to  do  with  metrics,  a  science  of  a  purely  mechanical 
nature.  Still,  rhythmics  requires  the  help  of  metrics  when 
it  is  a  question  of  creating  a  style.  To  my  mind  rhyth- 
mic training  should  vary  in  its  methods  according  to  the 
special  needs  of  the  country  in  which  it  is  given,  whereas 
training  in  metrics  is  of  universal  application. 


xiv   Preface  to  the  American  Edition 

In  the  case  of  the  American  people  I  believe  Eu- 
rhythmies can  have  a  beneficial  influence.  I  have, 
indeed,  often  been  surprised  at  the  lack  of  knowledge 
shown  by  my  American  pupils  of  the  qualities  of 
"time,"  more  particularly  of  the  value  of  effort  sus- 
tained for  the  length  of  time  required  for  the  consumma- 
tion of  that  effort.  Intelligence  is  an  important  factor 
of  progress;  persistence  in  the  utilisation  of  the  intel- 
lectual powers  is  a  still  more  important  factor.  The 
first  consequence  of  study  in  Eurhythmies  is  continuity 
of  effort,  for  rhythm  is  a  prime  factor  of  continuity. 
Further  it  is  a  factor  of  discipline  and  I  think  that  the 
American  child,  who  so  easily  takes  possession  of  him- 
self, needs  an  education  calculated  to  give  him  the 
means  of  perpetuating  this  "self"  and  of  bringing  it 
into  harmony  with  the  society  of  which  he  is  called  to 
form  a  part.  It  is  not  enough  to  be  intelligent  and  an 
artist;  still  more  needful  is  the  desire  to  continue  to  be 
both  one  and  the  other;  for  the  progress  of  a  race  de- 
pends on  the  persistence  of  each  individual  member  in 
asserting  his  "self"  and  in  bringing  this  "self"  into 
harmony  with  that  of  his  fellows.  I  have  had  oppor- 
tunities for  noting  how  the  American  child  can  vibrate 
and  enthuse  when  brought  into  contact  with  art  and 
life.  Perhaps  my  method  of  training  by  and  in 
rhythm  will  help  him  to  advance  with  more  confidence 
on  the  path  of  spiritual  and  physical  self -conquest,  and 
to  pursue  his  aesthetic  and  moral  development  with 
more  certain  persistence  and  harmony  of  effort. 

EMILE  JAQUES-DALCROZE. 

GENEVA,  November,  1920. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  pAGB 

I. — THE  PLACE  OF  EAK  TRAINING  IN  MUSICAL 

EDUCATION  (1898)          .         .         .         .  3 

II. — AN    ESSAY    IN    THE    REFORM    OF    Music 

TEACHING  IN  SCHOOLS  (1905)         .         .  13 

III. — "  THE  YOUNG  LADY  OF  THE  CONSERVATOIRE 

AND  THE  PIANO  "  (1905)        .         .         .61 

IV. — THE  INITIATION  INTO  RHYTHM  (1907)         .  79 

V. — MUSIC   AND  THE    CHILD    (1912)    .             .             .  95 

VI. — RHYTHMIC  MOVEMENT,  SOLFEGE,  AND   IM- 
PROVISATION (1914)        .         .         .   .      .115 

VII. — EURHYTHMICS  AND   MUSICAL    COMPOSITION 

(1915)                                                                                    .  145 

VIII.— Music,  JOY,  AND  THE  SCHOOL  (1915)         .  165 

IX. — RHYTHM  AND  CREATIVE  IMAGINATION  (1916)  183 

X. — RHYTHM  AND  GESTURE  IN  Music  DRAMA — 

AND  CRITICISM  (1910-1916)    .         .         .  199 

XI. — How  TO  REVIVE  DANCING  (1912)       .         .  231 

XII. — EURHYTHMICS  AND  MOVING  PLASTIC  (1919)  257 

XIII. — MUSIC  AND   THE    DANCER    (1918)             .             .  289 

XIV. — RHYTHM,  TIME,  AND  TEMPERAMENT  (1919)  309 

MUSICAL  SUPPLEMENT       .         .        ,        .  335 


XV 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

PORTRAIT  OF  E.  JAQUES-DALCROZE        .     Frontispiece 

Two  SCENES  FROM  "LES  SOUVENIRS,"  GENEVA,  1918  16 

CRESCENDO  OF  MOVEMENT  .....  32 

SCENE  FROM  "  LES  SOUVENIRS."     (i)    .         .         .  48 

SCENE  FROM  "LES  SOUVENIRS."     (2)    .         .         .  96 

SCENE  FROM  "LES  SOUVENIRS."     (3)    .         .         .  128 

A  PLASTIC  EXERCISE,     (i)    .         .         .         .         .  160 

A  PLASTIC  EXERCISE.     (2)   .         .         .         .         .  192 

STUDY  IN  LEAPING,     (i)                .         .         .         .  224 

STUDY  IN  LEAPING.     (2)       .....  256 

GROUP  EXERCISES        ......  288 

SCENE  FROM  GENEVA  FESTIVAL,  1914  .         .         .  304 


xvu 


RHYTHM,    MUSIC 
AND  EDUCATION 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  PLACE  OF  EAR  TRAINING  IN  MUSICAL 
EDUCATION  (1898) 

The  absurdity  of  studying  harmony  without  the  previous 
acquirement  and. practice  of  inner  hearing — Necessity  of  cul- 
tivating hearing  faculties  of  harmony  students — Character  of 
exercises  designed  to  educate  the  ear — Dangers  of  specialised 
studies,  particularly  in  pianoforte,  not  accompanied  by  general 
studies — The  place  of  motor-tactile  faculties  in  musical  edu- 
cation— Summary  of  special  exercises  for  the  adjustment  and 
development  of  temperament. 


CHAPTER  I 


THE  PLACE  OF  EAR  TRAINING  IN  MUSICAL 
EDUCATION  (1898) 

ONE  of  the  favourite  precepts  of  professors  of  har- 
mony is  that  you  must  never  make  use  of  the  piano  to 
work  out  or  take  note  of  successions  of  chords.  Faith- 
ful to  tradition,  I  proceeded  to  enforce  this  maxim  on 
my  classes,  until  confronted  by  a  student  who  naively 
protested:  "But,  please,  sir,  why  mayn't  I  use  the 
piano?  How  am  I  to  hear  anything  otherwise?"  In 
that  moment  light  descended  on  me.  I  saw  that  any 
rule  not  forged  by  necessity  and  from  direct  observa- 
tion of  nature,  must  be  arbitrary  and  false,  and  that 
the  prohibition  of  the  use  of  the  piano  was  meaningless 
when  addressed  to  young  people  lacking  the  capacity 
of  inner  hearing.  The  sense  of  touch  may,  to  a  certain 
degree,  and  in  particular  cases,  replace  that  of  hearing, 
and  I  have  known  composers  with  incomplete  hearing 
faculties  who  have  yet  contrived  to  produce  interest- 
ing work  composed,  as  they  say,  "at  the  piano." 
Obviously  their  studies  of  harmony  have  involved  the 
neglect  of  its  supreme  law,  —  it  being  impossible  to  con- 
ceive a  true  sequence  of  chords  without  an  inner  ear 
to  realise  the  sound  in  anticipation.  One  thing  or  the 
other:  Those  who  have  no  ear  must  compose  at  the 
piano,  those  who  have  an  ear  must  compose  without 

3 


4       Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

the  piano.  The  teacher  should,  therefore,  regard  it  as 
his  duty,  in  imposing  on  his  pupils  the  learning  of  har- 
monies without  recourse  to  an  instrument,  to  create  in 
them  a  sense  of  musical  pitch,  and  to  develop  their 
feeling  for  melody,  key,  and  harmony,  by  means  of 
special  exercises.  Do  such  exercises  exist?  And,  if 
they  do,  are  they  taught  in  our  music-schools?  These 
were  the  questions  I  put  to  myself,  and  sought  to  answer 
by  researches  in  public  libraries,  and  a  study  of  the 
prospectuses  and  time-tables  of  the  colleges  of  music. 
The  reply  was  forced  from  me — "No;  exercises  for  the 
development  of  the  aural  faculties  of  musicians  do  not. 
exist,  and  no  single  college  of  music  concerns  itself  with 
the  part  played  by  these  faculties  in  musical  training!" 

Let  me  make  myself  quite  clear:  undoubtedly  there 
exist  numbers  of  books  in  which  may  be  found  exer- 
cises in  reading,  transposition,  notation,  and  even  vo- 
cal improvisation.  But  all  these  may  be  achieved 
without  the  aid  of  the  ear:  reading  and  improvisation 
through  the  muscular,  transposition  and  notation 
through  the  visual  senses.  None  of  these  exercises  aim 
at  training  the  ear,  and  yet  it  is  through  the  latter 
alone  that  tonal  effects  are  registered  in  our  minds.  Is 
it  not  folly  to  teach  music  without  paying  the  slightest 
attention  to  the  diversification,  gradation,  and  combi- 
nation, in  all  their  shades,  of  the  gamut  of  sensations 
called  into  play  by  the  consonance  of  musical  feeling? 
How  has  it  been  possible  to  carry  on  a  systematic 
study  of  music,  while  utterly  ignoring  the  principal 
qualification  of  the  musician? 

I  therefore  set  about  devising  exercises  to  enable 
my  pupils  to  recognise  the  pitch  of  sounds,  estimate 


Ear  Training  in  Musical  Education    5 

intervals,  apprehend  harmonies,  distinguish  the  differ- 
ent notes  in  chords,  follow  the  contrapuntal  effects  in 
polyphonic  music,  distinguish  keys,  analyse  the  rela- 
tions between  hearing  and  vocal  sensations,  sensitise 
the  ear,  and — by  means  of  a  new  system  of  gymnastics 
applied  to  the  nervous  system — open  up  between  brain, 
ear,  and  larynx  the  necessary  channels  to  form  of  the 
entire  organism  what  one  might  call  the  inner  ear.  .  .  . 
And  I  assumed,  in  my  innocence,  that,  having  invented 
these  exercises,  nothing  remained  but  to  apply  them 
in  special  classes.  .  .  . 

Alas!  the  difficulties  I  had  met  with  in  devising  my 
scheme  for  the  development  of  the  ear  were  nothing  to 
those  that  now  faced  me  in  my  endeavour  to  introduce 
the  system.  Let  me  recall  the  weighty  objections 
marshalled  against  me.  The  true  musician  (it  was  said) 
should  possess,  as  it  were,  instinctively,  the  necessary 
qualifications  for  the  practice  of  his  art,  and  no  amount 
of  study  could  supply  gifts  that  must  come  naturally 
or  not  at  all:  the  student's  time  being  strictly  limited, 
it  was  undesirable  to  embarrass  him  with  additional 
labours  tending  to  distract  his  absorption  in  finger  exer- 
cises: his  instrumental  studies  were  already  adequate 
to  his  musical  needs,  etc.  .  .  .  Some  of  these  argu- 
ments are  sound  enough  in  their  place.  It  is  evident 
that  a  person  should  not  attempt  the  serious  study  of 
music  without  particular  gifts  for  the  purpose,  includ- 
ing an  aptitude  for  distinguishing  sounds,  and,  need- 
less to  say,  a  certain  sensibility  of  nerves,  and  elevation 
of  feeling,  without  which  no  musician  can  pass  muster. 
Apart  from  that,  however,  the  fact  that  instrumental 
classes  are  filled  with  individuals  unable  either  to  hear 


6       Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

or  to  listen  to  music,  justifies  us  in  asserting  that  even 
the  conservatoires  admit  that  it  is  possible  to  learn  to 
sing  and  to  play  the  piano  without  being  a  born  musi- 
cian. Why,  then,  confine  ourselves  to  training  the  fingers 
of  these  pupils?  Why  not  try  to  cultivate  their  aural 
perception  ? 

As  regards  naturally  good  musicians  who  devote 
themselves  to  the  study  of  composition  or  orchestral 
conducting,  may  one  not  claim  that  daily  exercises  in 
distinguishing  degrees  of  intensity  and  pitch  of  sounds, 
sense-analyses  of  tones  and  their  combinations,  poly- 
phonies and  harmonies,  in  every  key,  might  conceiv- 
ably render  their  ear  even  more  sensitive,  their  musical 
susceptibilities  even  more  delicate?  Apart  from  that, 
I  maintain  that  in  the  study  of  harmony  proper  (even 
in  classes  such  as  those  of  the  Paris  Conservatoire, 
where  only  students  possessing  absolute  pitch  are  ad- 
mitted) sufficient  attention  is  not  devoted  to  the  deter- 
mination and  analysis  of  the  relations  undoubtedly 
existing  between  sound  and  dynamics,  between  pitch 
and  accentuation,  between  the  varying  tempi  of  musi- 
cal rhythms,  and  the  choice  of  harmonies.  The  music 
courses  are  too  fragmentary  and  specialised:  those  re- 
lating to  the  piano  are  not  collated  with  those  in  har- 
mony, nor  harmony  with  those  treating  of  the  history 
of  music,  nor  is  the  history  of  music  duly  applied  to  a 
study  of  the  general  history  of  peoples  and  individuals. 
Syllabuses  are  profuse  in  their  subject  matter,  but 
there  is  no  coherence  in  the  tuition.  Each  professor  is 
confined  to  his  own  narrow  domain,  having  practically 
no  contact  with  those  of  his  colleagues  who  specialise 
in  other  branches  of  musical  science.  And  yet,  as  all 


Ear  Training  in  Musical  Education    7 

music  is  grounded  in  human  emotion  on  the  one  hand, 
in  the  aesthetic  research  after  combinations  of  sound 
on  the  other,  the  study  of  sound  and  movement  should 
be  collated  and  harmonised,  and  no  one  branch  of 
music  should  be  separable  from  the  others. 

Style  in  music  varies  according  to  climate  and  lati- 
tude, and,  by  corollary,  according  as  temperaments  are 
influenced  and  modified  by  social  atmosphere  and  con- 
ditions of  life.  The  divergencies  of  harmony  and  move- 
ment which  characterise  the  music  of  different  peoples 
spring,  then,  from  the  nervous  and  muscular  state  of 
their  organisms,  apart  altogether  from  their  divers 
hearing  faculties.  Ought  we  not  therefore  to  devote 
more  attention,  in  teaching  music,  to  the  motor  facul- 
ties of  the  pupils,  to  that  ensemble  of  reactions,  impulses, 
pauses,  recoils,  and  movements,  whether  spontaneous 
or  deliberate,  that  constitute  temperament?  I  have 
often  been  struck  at  observing  the  difficulty  small 
children  have  in  following,  while  marching,  a  very  slow 
movement  in  music,  in  halting  or  stepping  out  suddenly 
at  command,  in  relaxing  their  limbs  after  an  anxious 
moment,  in  taking  their  bearings  and  following  each 
other's  movements  on  being  taught  the  gestures  to 
accompany  a  song.  What  wonder,  considering  the 
time  that  must  be  lost  between  the  volition  and  the 
realisation  of  their  movements,  that  in  practising  a 
song  their  little  larynxes  should  be  unskilled,  their 
vocal  chords  inflexible  and  inexact,  their  breathing  ill- 
regulated,  to  say  nothing  of  their  attempts  to  punctu- 
ate and  measure  the  time,  and  to  emit  each  note  at 
the  right  moment !  Not  only,  then,  should  the  ear  and 
voice  of  the  child  receive  adequate  training,  but,  in 


8       Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

addition,  every  part  of  his  body  which  contributes  to 
rhythmic  movement,  every  muscular  and  nervous  ele- 
ment that  vibrates,  contracts,  and  relaxes  under  the 
pressure  of  natural  impulses.  Should  it  not  be  possible 
to  create  new  reflexes,  to  undertake  a  systematic  edu- 
cation of  nerve-centres,  to  subdue  the  activities  of  too 
excitable  temperaments,  to  regulate  and  harmonise 
muscular  synergies  and  conflicts,  to  establish  more  di- 
rect communications  between  the  feeling  and  under- 
standing, between  sensations  which  inform  the  mind 
and  those  which  re-create  sensorial  means  of  expres- 
sion? Every  thought  is  the  interpretation  of  an  action. 
If,  up  to  the  present,  muscular  movements  of  hand  and 
fingers  alone  have  sufficed  to  create  in  the  spirit  a  dis- 
tinct consciousness  of  rhythm,  what  far  more  intense 
impressions  might  we  not  convey  were  we  to  make  use 
of  the  whole  organism  in  producing  the  effects  necessary 
for  the  evocation  of  the  motor-tactile  consciousness? 
I  look  forward  to  a  system  of  musical  education  in 
which  the  body  itself  shall  play  the  r61e  of  intermediary 
between  sounds  and  thought,  becoming  in  time  the 
direct  medium  of  our  feelings — aural  sensations  being 
re-inforced  by  all  those  called  into  being  by  the  multiple 
agents  of  vibration  and  resonance  lying  dormant  in  our 
bodies ;  the  breathing  system  punctuating  the  rhythms 
of  words,  muscular  dynamics  interpreting  those  dictated 
by  musical  emotions.  The  child  will  thus  be  taught 
at  school  not  only  to  sing,  listen  carefully,  and  keep 
time,  but  also  to  move  and  think  accurately  and  rhythm- 
ically. One  might  commence  by  regulating  the  me- 
chanism of  walking,  and  from  thence  proceed  to  ally 
vocal  movements  with  the  gestures  of  the  whole  body. 


Ear  Training  in  Musical  Education    9 

That  would  constitute  at  once  instruction  in  rhythm, 
and  education  by  rhythm. 

Alas !  when  I  consider  the  enormous  pains  I  am  at  to 
persuade  music  teachers  of  the  possibility  of  contriving 
exercises  to  enable  children  to  listen  to  sounds  before  exe- 
cuting or  writing  them,  to  evoke  the  thought  of  a  note 
before  its  interpretation,  I  ask  myself  whether  this 
training  of  nerve-centres  will  ever  enter  the  realm  of 
practical  politics.  People  will  have  nothing  to  do 
with  new  ideas,  so  long  as  the  old  contribute  to  their 
self-satisfaction,  and  once  they  have  acquired  the  habit 
of  accepting  them  at  their  face  value.  Every  step 
towards  emancipation  to  which  they  have  condescended 
appears  to  them  immutable  and  definitive,  and  the 
truth  of  to-morrow  is  denounced  as  a  lie  to-day.  And 
yet  human  thought  develops  little  by  little,  despite  all 
resistance;  our  ideas  clarify,  our  powers  of  quick  decis- 
ion strengthen,  our  means  of  action  increase.  Who 
knows  but  that  a  day  will  dawn  when  professors  the 
world  over  will  recognise  the  possibility  of  adding  to 
the  divers  modes  of  stimulating  sensibility,  by  processes 
of  adaptation,  variation,  and  substitution,  and  music 
teachers  will  depend  less  exclusively  on  analysis,  and 
more  on  the  awakening  of  vital  emotions  and  the  con- 
sciousness of  mental  states?  On  that  day  will  emerge 
on  all  sides  new  methods,  based  on  the  cultivation  of 
combined  hearing  and  tactile  sensations,  and  mine  will 
be  the  silent  gratification  accorded  those  who,  in  mo- 
ments of  oppression,  have  yet  been  able  to  murmur  the 
eternal:  "E  pur  si  muove!" 


CHAPTER  II 

AN     ESSAY    IN    THE    REFORM    OF    MUSIC 
TEACHING  IN   SCHOOLS   (1905) 

Music  regarded  in  the  schools  of  to-day  as  of  minor  impor- 
tance— Cult  of  singing  in  the  colleges  of  music  of  the  i6th  and 
i^th  centuries — Objections  of  reactionaries — Music  should 
be  taught  only  by  musicians — What  must  be  exacted  of  stu- 
dents— Futility  of  a  musical  education  that  does  not  inculcate 
love,  of  music  in  children — Necessity  of  gradually  eliminating 
those  who  have  no  musical  gifts,  and  forming  special  classes 
/or  children  with  inaccurate  ears  and  voices  or  lacking  in  ade- 
quate rhythmic  capacity — Syllabus  of  courses  and  classifica- 
tion of  capacity  in  children — How  to  develop  "relative" 
pitch — Keys  and  scales — Exercises  necessary  to  develop  sense 
of  rhythm — The  step  and  the  beat — Musical  shading  and  im- 
provisation. 


ii 


CHAPTER  II 

AN    ESSAY    IN    THE    REFORM    OF    MUSIC    TEACHING    IN 
SCHOOLS    (1905) 

IT  is  not  enough  for  a  select  few  of  the  artists  and 
amateurs  of  a  country  to  be  better  instructed  than  their 
predecessors,  for  the  musical  standard  of  that  country 
to  be  raised  and  maintained.  If  the  masses  are  not 
capable  of  following — even  at  a  distance — in  the  steps 
of  that  select  few,  an  impassable  barrier  will  sooner  or 
later  be  erected  between  the  two  elements  of  a  people 
that  in  these  days  must  unite  if  they  are  to  co-exist. 
If  the  intellectual  aristocracy  alone  is  equipped  for 
progress,  the  ill- trained  masses  will  be  unable  to  follow; 
the  leaders  of  the  movement — finding  themselves  iso- 
lated, and  needing  the  co-operation  of  the  main  body — 
will  be  obliged  either  to  turn  back  and  rejoin  them,  or, 
continuing  their  solitary  course,  be  lost  in  obscurity. 
I  shall  be  told  that  it  is  the  fate  of  reformers  to  pursue 
the  path  of  enlightenment  in  solitude,  and  that  the 
masses  always  overtake  them  in  the  end!  .  .  .  The 
masses  will  not  overtake  them  unless  given  the  neces- 
sary equipment  and  unless  sufficiently  keen  and  coura- 
geous to  traverse,  without  relaxing,  every  step  of  the 
course.  The  educational  methods  of  the  last  centuries 
are  certainly  not  calculated  to  enable  our  children  to 
comprehend  and  assimilate  modern  artistic  develop- 

13 


14      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

ments.  Our  artists  have  forged  new  implements  of 
creation;  these  implements  must  be  adjusted  to  the 
hands  of  amateurs,  who  must  then  be  trained  to  handle 
them,  and  finally  entrusted  with  them  at  an  age  when 
they  are  most  ripe  for  'prentice  work,  when  their  hands 
are  flexible  and  easily  adapted  to  new  methods,  before 
the  fire  of  ambition  has  been  snuffed  out  by  disappoint- 
ment and  world-weariness,  before  they  have  acquired 
the  habit  of  doing  things  in  the  old  way  and  are  thus 
prevented  from  successfully  coping  with  the  new.  .  .  . 
Obviously,  no  evolution,  no  progress  can  be  accom- 
plished without  the  co-operation  of  youth.  It  is  in 
virgin  souls  that  new  ideas  take  firmest  root.  "Bend 
the  green  twig  as  you  will,"  runs  an  old  Persian  pro- 
verb, '  'only  fire  can  straighten  it  out  again ;  but  you  want 
a  mallet  to  drive  a  pile."  The  earlier  we  instil  tastes 
and  convictions  in  a  man,  the  more  sure  we  may  be  of 
durability  and  solidity.  We  should  regard  the  child  as 
the  man  of  to-morrow. 

The  progress  of  a  people  depends  on  the  education 
given  to  its  children. 

If  it  is  desired  that  musical  taste  shall  not  remain  the 
prerogative  of  the  cultured  few,  but  shall  penetrate  the 
real  heart  of  the  whole  people,  I  repeat  that  a  genuine 
musical  education — like  the  teaching  of  science  and 
morals — should  be  provided  at  school. 

It  is  evident  that  religion  has  ceased  to  inspire  our 
teachers  to  preserve  for  musical  studies  the  place  they 
formerly  occupied  in  the  general  educational  scheme. 
Many  good  people  find  themselves  wondering  why  the 
schools  continue  to  teach  singing  at  all,  since  no  oppor- 
tunity is  given  the  children  of  displaying  their  attain- 


Music  Teaching  in  Schools          15 

ments  either  in  the  churches,  on  secular  holidays,  in 
their  recreation,  or  as  a  rhythmic  assistant  and  com- 
plement to  their  courses  of  gymnastics. 

These  good  people,  who  point  out  that  the  teaching 
of  music  to-day  serves  neither  a  practical  nor  an  ethical 
aim — but  ministers  merely  to  the  annual  delectation  of 
school  inspectors — have  every  excuse  for  losing  interest 
in  musical  studies,  and  regarding  them  as  of  no  impor- 
tance. But  if  they  would  take  the  trouble  to  reflect 
upon  the  matter,  they  would  recognise  that  these 
studies  could  and  should  be  given  a  very  definite,  prac- 
tical, and  ethical  aim,  and  thenceforward  they  would 
do  their  utmost  to  encourage  and  stimulate  their 
development. 

Private  music  lessons  are  virtually  confined  to  the 
children  of  well-to-do  families,  whose  parents  are  actu- 
ated generally  either  by  snobbishness  or  by  respect  for 
tradition.  The  music  master,  for  whom  such  lessons 
provide  a  livelihood,  can  hardly  be  expected  to  reject 
a  pupil  who  shows  no  aptitude  for  the  work.  For  the 
same  reason,  none  of  our  amateur  conservatoires  will 
turn  a  pupil  away,  be  he  deaf  or  idiot.  This  has  the 
deplorable  result  of  investing  a  multitude  of  musical 
dunces,  steeped  in  affectation,  with  a  reputation  for 
talent — most  people  being  unfortunately  under  the  im- 
pression, that  they  have  only  to  take  lessons  in  order 
to  know  something,  and  that,  having  "gone  in  for"  a 
particular  subject,  they  must  necessarily  understand  it. 
And  there  is  the  other  side  of  the  picture.  While  the 
affluence  of  some  parents  enables  them  to  provide  a 
musical  education  for  children  utterly  unfitted  for  it — 
to  the  serious  detriment  of  the  art — poverty  alone 


1 6      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

deters  other  parents,  to  its  even  greater  detriment,  from 
making  similar  provisions  for  their  genuinely  talented 
children.  Making  music  a  compulsory  school  subject 
is  the  only  sure  means  of  mobilising  the  vital  musical 
forces  of  a  country.  Were  it  undertaken  in  the  right 
spirit,  efficiently  organised,  and  confided  to  intelligent 
and  competent  teachers,  every  child  would  at  the  end 
of  two  or  three  years  be  put  to  the  test:  those  who 
showed  talent  being  enabled  to  continue  their  studies 
to  the  point  of  attaining  the  maximum  development 
of  their  faculties,  the  remainder,  those  devoid  of  all 
musical  taste,  being  relieved  from  the  burden  of  lessons 
of  no  value  to  them,  and  thereby  conferring  an  almost 
equal  benefit  on  the  art,  in  being  debarred  from  med- 
dling with  it,  and  clogging  its  progress  by  ridiculous  pre- 
tensions. The  Coach,  in  La  Fontaine's  fable,  would 
probably  never  have  arrived  at  its  destination,  had  the 
pretentious  fly  been  joined  by  others ;  a  swarm  of  them, 
with  their  buzzing  and  erratic  aerial  manoeuvres,  would 
have  exasperated  the  coachman  and  distracted  the 
horses.  .  .  .  Heaven  preserve  us  from  our  musical 
flies! 

"Talent,"  said  Montesquieu,  "is  a  gift  confided  to  us 
by  God  in  secret,  and  which  we  display  without  knowing 
it." 

If  every  child  were  compelled  by  law  to  pass  an 
examination  conducted  by  artists,  and  to  subject  him- 
self for  a  few  years  to  competent  control,  no  single 
promising  recruit  would  be  allowed  to  pass  into  ob- 
scurity, neither  would  the  hopelessly  unmusical  evade 
detection  and  its  logical  consequences. 

The  classification  of  capacities  and  incapacities  once 


,t*--          --   - 
'         >'  •  '    *  ,>>•*," 

'      w'  '  -   '          >*•  '  ; 


Two  Scenes  from  Les  Souvenirs.     Geneva,  1918 


Music  Teaching  in  Schools          17 

established — the  former  receiving  due  encouragement, 
the  latter  rendered  comparatively  innocuous,  the  teach- 
ing of  music  could  obviously  be  practised  on  a  more 
effectual  basis.  The  results  would  now  depend  on  two 
important  factors,  with  which  we  shall  deal  presently 
at  greater  length:  the  method  of  teaching,  and  the 
choice  of  teachers.  Once  our  educational  authorities 
realise  their  responsibilities  and  set  about  providing  a 
sound  primary  musical  grounding  for  every  moderately 
gifted  child,  and  a  more  thorough  training  for  every 
exceptionally  talented  one,  not  only  will  they  have  in- 
troduced into  school  life  a  new  element  of  vitality, 
recreation,  joy,  and  health,  not  only  will  they  have 
recruited  to  the  ranks  of  art  a  large  number  of  adepts 
whose  later  co-operation  must  prove  invaluable  (assur- 
ing and  strengthening  the  existing  choral  societies,  and 
encouraging  the  formation  of  orchestras  composed 
entirely  of  local  talent),  but  they  will  also  have  assem- 
bled for  future  purposes  a  host  of  embryonic  teachers, 
of  proved  learning  and  appreciable  talents,  and — still 
more  important — au  courant  with  the  latest  methods 
of  instruction. 

These  advantages  should  satisfy  the  most  sceptical 
as  to  the  desirability  of  reforming  the  system  of  musical 
education  in  vogue  to-day,  even  though  our  motives 
have  no  longer  the  religious  and  traditional  character 
that  actuated  our  ancestors  in  the  1 6th  and  iyth  cen- 
turies, in  their  zest  for  musical  erudition.  In  those 
days  music  was  studied  with  a  view  to  adequate  par- 
ticipation in  the  musical  side  of  religious  ceremonies. 
The  acquirement  of  musical  taste  was  accordingly  a 
result  of  studies  undertaken  for  this  definite  purpose. 


1 8      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

To-day,  when  religious  ardour  has  manifestly  ceased  to 
inspire  all  but  the  most  primitive  vocal  efforts,  it  be- 
hoves us  to  enquire  whether  the  retention  of  any  form 
of  musical  tuition  in  the  curriculum  of  our  schools  is 
not  a  mere  survival  of  routine,  and,  if  so,  whether  it  is 
not  time  we  replaced  this  tradition  (now  that  its  origi- 
nal meaning  has  disappeared)  by  a  more  vital  incentive 
to  progress..  Whether  this  take  the  form  of  a  desire  to 
strengthen  musical  taste  and  to  prepare  for  the  study 
of  classical  and  modern  masterpieces,  or  for  hygienic 
considerations,  is  not  (for  the  moment)  material.  The 
essential  thing  is  that  we  should  know  exactly  why  we 
are  to  retain  music  in  our  current  curriculum.  We  can 
later — assuming  we  are  satisfied  as  to  the  public  utility 
of  such  retention — proceed  to  enquire  as  to  whether 
this  generation  is  in  advance  of  the  preceding  ones. 
Should  it  appear  that  absolutely  no  progress  has  been 
made,  it  is  our  business  to  ascertain  the  cause  of  this 
status  quo,  and  thence  set  about  devising  means  for 
securing  a  better  record  for  the  coming  generation. 
The  progress  of  the  man  is  one  of  the  results  of  his 
preoccupations  as  a  child.  Sound  ideas  instilled  in  the 
schoolroom  are  transformed  later  into  deeds,  provided 
that  a  cognisance  of  their  means  of  accomplishment  is 
accompanied  by  an  estimate  of  the  effort  necessary  for 
the  purpose,  and  by  genuine  love  of  the  art,  in  whose 
cause  the  effort  is  to  be  made.  By  this  means  alone 
can  we  make  sure  of  our  country  keeping  pace  with  the 
times,  of  our  choral  societies  facing  the  future  instead 
of  burrowing  in  the  traditions  of  the  past,  and  of  virtu- 
osity becoming  a  mere  means  of  expression,  instead  of 
the  whole  end  of  musical  training.  By  this  means  alone 


Music  Teaching  in  Schools          19 

can  we  tempt  beauty  to  our  firesides,  and  fill  the  void 
caused  by  the  decline  of  religion.  Cur  professionals, 
better  supported  and  understood  by  amateurs,  will  no 
longer  seek  conquests  in  other  lands,  preferring  to  re- 
main in  the  country  which  they  best  understand,  and 
of  which  consequently  they  can  best  sing  the  beauties. 
The  time  will  return  when  the  People  express  in 
melody  its  simple  joys  and  griefs.  Children,  having 
relearnt  to  sing  in  unison  the  old  songs  that  charmed 
their  forefathers,  will  feel  inspired  to  create  new  ones, 
and  we  shall  see  the  end  of  that  lamentable  division  of 
singing  at  our  music  competitions  into  two  parts : — folk- 
songs and  artistic  songs. 

It  goes  without  saying  that,  if,  after  due  reflection, 
the  principle  of  teaching  music  in  schools  at  all  is  con- 
demned, a  consideration  of  the  suggestions  that  follow 
will  be  so  much  waste  of  time.  If,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  necessity  of  music  study  is  granted.  .  .  .  But 
there!  ...  At  this  very  moment,  as  I  prepare  to 
marshal  my  facts  and  extract  the  logical  conclusions,  a 
sense  of  disquiet  steals  over  me,  forcing  me  to  ask 
whether  it  is,  after  all,  worth  while  to  affirm  and 
reaffirm  -what  is,  only  to  be  faced  with  the  imperative 
and  urgent  task,  alike  of  musicians  and  patriots,  of 
clamouring  in  season  and  out  of  season  for  what  ought 
to  be,  demanding  as  of  right,  a  thorough  overhauling  of 
our  educational  system  and  resolved,  in  its  cause,  to 
devote  whatever  necessary  time  .  .  .  but  at  these 
words  I  seem  to  see  emerging  from  their  tombs  the 
grinning  skulls  of  myriad  reformers  of  the  past. 
"The  necessary  time,"  repeat  their  mocking  voices  out 


20      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

of  graves  where  lie  buried  so  many  old  bodies  with 
so  many  young  hopes:  "Have  you  any  idea,  poor 
mortal,  of  the  incalculable  hours,  days,  years  involved 
in  your  'necessary  time'?  The  time  occupied  by 
countless  authorities  in  'giving  the  matter  their  atten- 
tion,' by  committees  in  discussing  it,  by  fools  in  failing 
to  understand  it,  by  fanatics  in  opposing  it,  by  arriv- 
istes in  making  promises,  by  the  same  worthies,  after 
arrival,  in  forgetting  them !  Your  'necessary  time'  will 
extend  far  beyond  the  remaining  years  of  your  life, 
and,  at  your  death,  be  sure  all  your  fine  schemes  for 
reform  will  be  buried  with  you,  as  were  ours  with  us! 
Cut  your  coat  according  to  your  cloth;  nobody  will 
ever  obtain  a  really  radical  reform.  Limit  your  de- 
mands to  a  minimum:  possibly  this  'minimum'  will 
be  accorded  after  a  long  and  persistent  campaign — but 
don't  make  the  mistake  of  asking  for  too  much,  or  you 
will  get  nothing  at  all.  .  .  .  Only  discouragement 
and  disappointment  lie  in  wait  for  those  who  seek  the 
good  of  other  people  at  the  expense  of  the  smug  self- 
satisfaction  of  the  Powers  That  Be.  Live  happy, 
thinking  only  of  yourself,  and  satisfied  with  things  as 
they  are,  since  the  rest  of  the  world  accepts  them!" 

But — strange  phenomenon — these  words,  instead  of 
damping  our  ardour,  only  reawaken  and  renew  it!  Is 
it  so  certain  thet  every  new  idea  is  received  with  this 
universal  indifference?  Is  not  such  an  idea  well  within 
the  realm  of  practical  politics,  provided  it  arrives  at 
the  right  moment?  And  is  not  this  moment,  in  our 
case,  actually  imminent,  now  when  so  many  artists, 
hitherto  isolated,  are  coming  together  in  response  to  a 
yearning  for  mutual  love  and  understanding,  for  esprit 


Music  Teaching  in  Schools          21 

de  corps,  in  the  common  cause  of  progress  and  the  pur- 
suit of  beauty?  Yes,  the  hour  has  struck  when,  by  the 
coalescence  of  individual  efforts,  the  ideals  of  our  re- 
formers the  world  over  will  be  attained.  And  as  for 
the  "necessary  time"  for  their  attainment,  we  will  face 
it  with  unabated  confidence,  marching  ever  forward 
side  by  side,  our  eyes  fixed  on  one  goal,  our  hearts  beat- 
ing with  a  common  fervour. r 

The  teaching  of  music  in  our  schools  fails  to  produce 
anything  like  adequate  results,  because  our  educational 
authorities  leave  the  whole  control  of  the  tuition  in  the 
hands  of  stereotyped  inspectors.  As  these  are  nomi- 
nated by  pure  routine,  and  no  attention  or  encourage- 
ment is  given  to  the  initiative  of  any  official  who  may 
feel  tempted  to  deviate  from  the  beaten  track,  the  con- 
sequence is  that  no  innovation  of  principle  or  practice 
has  found  its  way  into  the  curriculum  from  time  imme- 
morial. The  theories  of  Pestalozzi  and  Froebel  on  the 
musical  training  of  young  children  have  been  adopted 
only  by  private  schools.  The  highly  original  educa- 
tional experiments  of  Kaubert,  about  the  year  1850, 
received  absolutely  no  recognition  in  high  quarters. 
The  value  of  Swedish  drill  was  only  appreciated  after 
a  campaign  extending  over  15  years.  The  brilliant  sys- 
tem of  analysing  and  explaining  musical  rhythm  and 
expression  advocated  by  Mathis  Lussy,  our  compa- 
triot, and  one  of  the  greatest  of  modern  theorists,  has 
not,  up  to  the  present,  attracted  the  attention  of  our 

1  The  Board  of  Education  of  the  Canton  of  Geneva  has  just  introduced 
eurhythmies  as  an  experiment  in  three  classes  of  primary  schools,  and,  as 
an  optional  course,  in  two  classes  of  the  Girls'  High  School.  (1919.) 


22      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

educational  authorities.  Not  that  this  is  so  remarkable, 
seeing  that,  so  far  as  I  am  aware  (I  can  only  pray  that 
I  am  not  mistaken !)  music  is  absolutely  unrepresented 
on  our  public  bodies,  nor  have  these  latter  ever  mani- 
fested the  slightest  disposition  to  confer  with  profes- 
sional musicians. J  I  say  I  can  only  pray  that  I  am  not 
mistaken,  and  that  by  some  chance  some  stray  musician 
has  not,  in  this  or  that  canton,  been  summoned  to  take 
an  active  or  consultative  part  in  the  official  school- 
board  proceedings,  for  we  should  have  to  conclude,  from 
the  actual  condition  of  things,  that  his  influence  had 
been  absolutely  nil!  It  is  preferable  to  believe  that  the 
failure  of  our  public  bodies  to  assure  a  development  of 
musical  studies  compatible  with  the  means  and  powers 
at  their  disposal,  is  not  deliberate.  "Not  deliberate" — 
that  is  to  say,  the  result  merely  of  taking  no  inter- 
est in  the  question,  and  of  never  suspecting  its  im- 
portance. 

Music,  outside  of  genuine  artistic  circles,  is  held  in 
very  light  repute  not  only  by  our  educational  authori- 
ties, but  even  by  painters,  sculptors,  and  men  of  let- 
ters ;  and  it  is  by  no  means  unusual  to  find  journalists, 
otherwise  full  of  zeal  for  the  artistic  development  of 
their  country,  treating  music  as  a  negligible  quantity, 
and  greeting  musical  events,  either  with  the  smiling 
indulgence  of  the  condescending  patron,  or  with  an 
equally  insufferable  affectation  of  superiority,  explicable 
only  in  the  light  of  their  abysmal  ignorance  of  the  art. 

1  The  Board  of  Education  for  the  cantons  of  Geneva  and  Vaud  have 
recently  appointed  a  commission  of  musicians  to  reorganise  musical 
instruction  in  our  schools.  On  their  proceedings  depend  all  our  hopes 
of  a  real  reform  (1919). 


Music  Teaching  in  Schools          23 

One  would  have  thought  that  this  same  neglect  and 
disdain  was  hardly  likely  to  be  met  with  in  France, 
where  at  least  a  smattering  of  music  forms  part  of  the 
indispensable  equipment  of  the  litterateur;  but,  alas, 
this  smattering  usually  remains  a  smattering.  And  if, 
to  her  credit,  we  can  record  with  envy  the  introduction 
into  French  schools  of  the  highly  interesting  collection 
of  chansons  of  Maurice  Bouchor,  we  cannot  lose  sight 
of  the  fact  that  the  system  of  musical  education  gen- 
erally in  vogue  with  our  Gallic  neighbours  is  even  more 
rudimentary  than  our  own,  as  witness — among  other 
things — the  lamentable  decline  of  part-singing  in 
France,  the  shameful  dearth  of  musical  societies,  the 
popularity  of  the  gutter  songs  of  the  cqfe-chantant,  and 
the  extinction  of  the  oratorio.  In  German  schools  the 
reign  of  pedantry  is  everywhere  in  full  force,  and  the 
suggestive  counsels  of  eminent  specialists  like  Karl 
Storck  have  not  yet  attracted  the  notice  of  scholastic 
authorities.  What  is  worse,  the  Froebel  schools  have 
fallen  into  a  state  of  decay.  Only  Belgium  and  Holland 
appear  fully  to  appreciate  the  importance  of  a  sound 
and  well-organised  pedagogic  system. 

And  yet  our  country  is  among  those  whose  scholas- 
tic institutions  command  almost  universal  admiration, 
thanks  to  their  excellent  organisation  generally,  and  to 
the  enterprise  and  enlightenment  of  most  of  our  boards 
of  education.  How,  then,  does  it  come  about  that  only 
the  teaching  of  music — and  of  artistic  matters  in  gen- 
eral— should  be  neglected  and  abandoned  to  routine? 
The  answer  is  that  our  scholastic  authorities  have  no 
understanding  of  music,  and  no  ambition  to  acquire 
one.  I  shall  be  told  that  it  is  manifestly  unnecessary 


24      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

for  a  geographical  expert  to  be  represented  on  a  school 
board  to  secure  an  adequate  teaching  of  geography. 
Granted;  but  only  because  no  member  of  such  a  board 
would  be  found  incapable  of  realising  the  value  of 
geography  and  the  importance  of  obtaining  competent 
instructors  in  the  science.  For  this  purpose  he  only 
requires  to  have  received  himself  a  general  all-round 
education,  to  have  a  sound  judgment,  good  hearing,  and 
.  .  .  to  be  able  to  read.  The  same  applies  to  other 
subjects  of  special  training,  such  as  gymnastics.  .  .  . 
There  again,  it  is  not  necessary  to  be  an  expert  to  re- 
cognise its  utility  and  advocate  its  extension.  Indeed, 
the  arguments  in  favour  of  the  training  and  hygiene  of 
the  body  are  furnished  by  the  body  itself.  And  the 
practical  means  of  developing  the  flexibility,  and  of 
securing  the  balance,  of  limbs  are  easy  enough  to 
grasp;  for  that,  again,  it  is  sufficient  to  be  able  to  read 
intelligently.  But  music  is  another  matter  altogether. 
Those  who  have  gone  through  life  with  an  untrained 
ear  cannot  be  expected  to  appreciate  the  necessity  of 
furnishing  others  with  an  ear  attuned  to  fine  percep- 
tions by  the  diligent  practice  of  special  exercises.  Those 
who  themselves  cannot  distinguish  either  melodies  or 
harmonies  are  hardly  the  best  advocates  of  a  syctem 
designed  to  secure  these  accomplishments  for  others. 
And,  while  they  may  accept  it  out  of  respect  for  tra- 
dition, they  will  be  unable  either  to  select  the  best 
method  for  training  the  ear,  and  rendering  it  capable  of 
analysing  the  relations  and  combinations  of  sounds,  or 
to  appreciate  the  merits  of  the  experts  to  whom  they 
may  delegate  the  responsibility  of  selecting  such  a 
method.  The  spirit  of  music  expresses  itself  in  a  Ian- 


Music  Teaching  in  Schools          25 

guage  of  its  own,  which  our  scholastic  authorities  are 
unable  to  read.  And,  unfortunately,  they  will  not  allow 
others  to  read  for  them.  And  yet  with  them  rests  the 
exclusive  right  of  nominating  teachers  and  deciding  on 
methods.  .  .  .  That  is  why  music  has  no  share  in 
the  general  prosperity  of  our  educational  system.  That 
is  why  children  learn  neither  to  read,  phrase,  record, 
or  emit  sounds  in  our  schools.  That  is  why  our  sons 
and  daughters  grow  up  dumb. 

"But  look  here,"  protests  Mr.  So-and-So  (a  familiar 
and  ubiquitous  type),  "there  is  surely  no  need  to  have 
a  competent  general  direction  to  make  the  teaching 
effective.  At  that  rate,  you  would  want  singing  lessons 
given  in  our  schools  by  specialists.  And  yet,  as  things 
are,  quite  ordinary  masters  produce  the  happiest 
results." 

"I  am  not  denying,  Mr.  So-and-So,  that  there  are 
good  masters  in  our  schools ;  but  there  are  also  bad  ones, 
and  this  would  not  be  the  case — or  it  would  hardly  ever 
be — if  we  had  a  competent  and  well-informed  direction, 
and  if  the  training  of  teachers  were  more  complete 
so  far  as  music  is  concerned.  Bad  teachers  must  pro- 
duce bad  pupils.  If  you  take  the  average  of  those  who 
are  successful  at  examinations,  you  may  be  sure  that 
it  is  far  smaller  than  it  would  have  been  if  all  the 
teachers  had  been  well  chosen.  And  that,  bear  in  mind, 
is  the  principal  count  in  my  indictment.  I  contend 
that,  on  leaving  school,  the  greatest  possible  number  of 
pupils  should  have  received  a  musical  education  ade- 
quate for  the  artistic  requirements  of  modern  life,  and 
for  the  application  of  natural  faculties  normally  and 
logically  developed.  These  capable  masters  you  speak 


26      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

of — Can't  you  see  what  different  results  they  would 
obtain  if  their  own  education  had  been  properly  con- 
ducted ?  I  am  not  here  going  to  analyse  their  methods 
in  detail — indeed  they  vary  according  to  the  country — 
but  I  think  I  may  assert,  without  fear  of  contradiction, 
that  one  and  all  are  based  on  theory  instead  of  on  sen- 
sorial  experiment.  No  art  is  nearer  life  itself  than 
music.  No  art  has  developed  and  is  still  developing 
more  rapidly,  no  art  has  inspired  so  many  ingenious  theo- 
rists or  so  many  systems  of  teaching, — growing  ever 
more  and  more  simple, — proof  positive  of  their  peda- 
gogic value!  To  choose  between  these  systems  is 
admittedly  difficult,  and  we  are  not  reproving  the  au- 
thorities with  having  chosen  wrongly.  Our  grievance 
is  that  they  have  neglected  to  choose  at  all,  that  they 
have  preferred  in  every  case — without  a  single  excep- 
tion— to  retain  the  methods  of  the  past.  What  is  the 
infallible  criterion  of  the  worth  of  a  system  of  instruc- 
tion? Surely  the  practical  results  of  the  system,  the 
technical  accomplishments  of  the  pupils  who  have  fol- 
lowed it.  Let  us  for  a  moment  consider  those  accom- 
plishments. 

After  their  fourth  or  fifth  year  of  musical  tuition  in 
our  primary  schools,  are  fifty  per  cent,  of  the  pupils 
capable: 

1.  Of  beating  time  to  a  tune  played  rubato  by  the 

master? 

2.  Of  reading  at  sight  accurately  and  in  time  either  the 

first,  or  second  part  of  a  folk-song  with  words  ? 

3.  Of  discerning  whether  a  melody  sung  to  them  is  in 

C,  F,  G,  or  B  flat?    Whether  it  is  in  2,  3,  or  4  time? 
Whether  it  is  in  a  major  or  minor  key  ? 


Music  Teaching  in  Schools          27 

And  that,  I  submit,  is  not  asking  much.  One  would 
exact  much  more  of  students  of  a  foreign  language,  who 
would  be  expected,  on  examination,  to  read  and  write 
with  tolerable  accuracy.  And  remember  that  I  am 
referring  to  only  50  per  cent,  of  the  pupils.  .  .  . 

After  five  or  six  years  of  study  in  secondary  and 
higher  grade  schools,  are  the  pupils  capable: 

1.  Of  achieving  what  we  have  asked  of  the  pupils  of 

primary  schools? 

Are  fifty  per  cent,  of  them  capable: 

2.  Of  writing  a  simple  melody  heard  for  the  first  time, 

and  a  more  difficult  melody  that  they  know  by 
heart,  but  have  never  seen  written  ? 

3.  Of  recognising  whether  a  piece  played  to  them  is  a 

gavotte,  a  minuet,  a  march,  or  a  mazurka? 

4.  Of  improvising  four  bars  in  any  key? 

5.  Of  appreciating  a  modulation? 

6.  Of  appreciating  at  a  first  hearing  a  change  of  time? 

7.  Of  explaining  clearly,  and  illustrating,  a  single  rule 

of  musical  prosody,  and  of  "setting"  two  lines  of 
verse? 

8.  Of  quoting  and  illustrating  a  single  rule  of  phrasing 

or  shading? 

9.  Of  quoting  the  names  of  three  celebrated  composers 

with  their  most  important  works? 

10.  Of  giving  a  summary  statement  of  the  difference 
between  a  ballad,  a  sonata,  and  a  symphony? 

Questions  1,2,  and  3  correspond  to  the  sort  of  tests 
one  might  apply  to  a  sixth-year  student  of  English  or 
German  in  writing  an  English  or  German  phrase  to 
dictation,  or  replying  in  English  or  German  to  a  ques- 
tion put  in  the  same  language. 


28      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

"But  wait  a  minute,"  will  exclaim  our  Mr.  So-and-So, 
1 '  I  don't  follow  you.  Do  you  really  expect  school  child- 
ren to  know  all  those  things?" 

"Why  not,  sir?" 

"Why  not,  indeed!  Ask  a  child  just  leaving  school 
to  beat  a  rubato  in  time,  to  guess  the  key  in  which  a 
folk-song  is  written.  ...  To  expect  the  students 
in  the  higher  schools  to  be  able  to  improvise  and 
modulate  and  understand  musical  prosody  and  good- 
ness knows  what  not !  The  mere  idea  of  bothering  these 
unfortunate  children,  who've  already  more  than  enough 
to  do,  with  the  names  of  the  classical  composers  and 
their  works!" 

"What  are  they  to  be  taught,  then!" 

"The  notes,  rests " 

"Rests  with  a  vengeance!" 

"The  notes,  sharps,  flats,  symbols  ...  all  that 
sort  of  thing:  in  short,  music/" 

"Are  not  the  questions  I  have  suggested  putting  to 
pupils  related  to  music?" 

"Yes,  but— -" 

"But  what?" 

"But  they  are  too  difficult." 

"Not  a  bit,  my  dear  sir,  not  in  the  least.  They  are 
of  a  most  elementary  nature.  One  and  all  relate  to 
solf ege,  not  to  harmony,  and  the  last  two  do  not  require 
any  theoretical  training  at  all — any  more  than  a  good 
Swiss  requires  to  study  history  for  six  years  to  be  able 
to  speak  of  William  Tell,  or  Winkelried  or  General 
Dufour!" 

"Still,  our  children  are  not  taught  that  sort  of  thing." 

"Then  their  education  is  incomplete." 


Music  Teaching  in  Schools          29 

"Do  you  expect  every  child  in  a  class  to  have  a  good 
voice  and  a  good  ear?" 

"Those  who  have  not  should  be  removed  from  the 
class,  as  we  would  exclude  a  blind  man  from  a  musketry 
course,  or  a  legless  man  from  gymnastics." 

"That's  not  the  same  thing." 

"It  is  precisely  the  same  thing,  I  assure  you." 

' '  But  how  on  earth  can  you  expect  children  to  assimi- 
late that  store  of  knowledge  on  a  single  hour's  lesson  a 
week?" 

"If  an  hour  is  not  enough,  they  must  be  given  two, 
or  any  number  .  .  .  any  number,  that  is,  that  may 
be  required  to  make  the  lessons  profitable.  But  don't 
be  alarmed,  Mr.  So-and-So,  one  hour  will  be  quite 
sufficient  once  children  are  brought  up  to  sing  outside 
school  hours,  and  music  is  made  to  play  a  part  in  their 
everyday  life.  One  thing  or  the  other:  either  music 
lessons  should  be  organised  in  such  a  way  as  to  make 
children  musical — that  is  to  say,  to  bring  out  their  tem- 
perament and  hearing  faculties — or  they  should  be  ex- 
cluded altogether  from  the  school  curriculum,  and  the 
task  of  initiating  our  youth  into  the  beauties  of  music 
relegated  to  private  institutions.  .  .  .  But  what's 
the  matter,  Mr.  So-and-So?  Did  I  hear  you  mutter 
that  a  good  third  of  the  certified  students  of  our 
conservatoires  are  unable  either  to  improvise  or  to 
modulate?  That  they  would  be  found  incapable  of 
satisfactorily  answering  any  of  the  questions  I  have 
enumerated?  .  .  .  That,  sir,  is  a  serious  statement 
to  make.  Would  you  be  prepared  to  subscribe  to  it 
in  the  columns  of  the  Journal  de  Geneve  or  the  Easier 
Nachrichten?" 


3°      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

"I  would  subscribe  to  it  with  the  deepest  regret,  but 
I  would  subscribe  to  it." 

"The  deuce  you  would!  Well,  we  shall  have  to  re- 
form the  system  of  training  in  our  conservatoires  as 
well." 

It  is  the  deplorable  fact,  as  we  have  already  stated, 
that  singing  and  music  are  regarded  at  schools  as  sub- 
jects outside  the  essentials  of  education.  It  gratifies  a 
certain  number  of  parents  to  be  able  to  say  that  their 
children  can  sing,  and  so  the  schools  provide  a  super- 
ficial training  calculated  to  give  them  the  appearance 
of  having  studied  music.  It  never — unless  by  chance — 
awakens  in  their  senses  and  heart  a  real  love  for  music ; 
it  never  makes  music  live  for  them.  They  are  trained 
merely  in  its  external  side,  and  its  emotional  and  really 
educative  qualities  remain  hidden  from  them.  They 
are  not  even  taught  to  listen  to  music.  The  only  music 
they  hear  is  that  in  which  they  are  set  to  execute.  And 
on  what  principle  are  they  taught  the  art  of  singing? 
It  is  a  matter  simply  and  solely  of  imitation.  One 
wonders  when  our  authorities  will  abandon  this  system 
of  parrot-training;  when  they  will  begin  to  recognise 
the  importance  of  making  singing  lessons  an  integral 
element  in  the  life  of  the  school,  permeating  with  music 
every  side  of  its  activities;  tending  to  poetise  them  with 
its  melodious  charms,  to  vitalise,  brace,  and  strengthen 
them  with  its  rhythm;  when  they  will  initiate  pupils, 
boys  and  girls,  into  the  wonders  to  be  attained  by  an 
adequate  study  of  part-singing,  creating  in  them,  on 
leaving  school — where  they  will  thereby  have  become 
accustomed  to  singing  with  and  understanding  one 


Music  Teaching  in  Schools         31 

another — the  desire  to  join  choral  societies.  By  so 
doing  they  will  establish  a  point  of  contact  between  the 
music  lessons  of  the  schools  and  the  "conservatorial " 
studies,  where  at  present  these  pull  in  opposite  direc- 
tions, without  the  slightest  attempt  at  a  rapproche- 
ment— though,  indeed,  as  things  are,  this  would  be 
somewhat  in  the  nature  of  an  alliance  between  the 
blind  and  the  paralysed  .  .  .  and  in  public  perform- 
ances they  will  have  school  choirs  accompanied  by  or- 
chestral societies,  drawn  from  the  conservatoires,  with 
a  consequent  valuable  exchange  of  tastes  for  these 
branches  of  musical  activity. 

The  rub  will  come  in  the  selection  of  teachers.  A 
wholesale  dismissal  of  the  present  staffs  will  have 
to  be  made,  to  considerable  heart-burning,  and  a 
clamour  of  protests.  But,  indeed,  the  number  of 
music  teachers  in  primary  schools,  utterly  unfitted  for 
their  work,  is  simply  appalling.  All  of  them  have  spent 
the  requisite  time  at  the  correct  institutions,  but  how 
many  have  profited  by  it?  In  how  many  cases  has 
not  the  final  "satisfecit"  in  the  teaching  certificate 
examinations  been  accorded  a  candidate  who  has  estab- 
lished his  qualifications  in  every  branch  except  music, 
out  of  reluctance  to  pluck  him  on  the  strength  of 
deficiency  in  a  mere  artistic  subject  of  minor  import- 
ance! These  persons  will  become  proficient  teachers 
in  every  domain  save  that  of  music;  they  will  train 
their  pupils  admirably  in  geography,  arithmetic,  lit- 
erature; they  will  teach  them  to  become  good  and  right- 
thinking  citizens,  but — being  themselves  deficient  in 
instinct  and  taste  for  music — they  will  fail  to  awaken 


32      Rhythm,  Music  and  Education 

the  musical  instinct  and  taste  of  their  pupils.  They  will 
thus  be  responsible  for  the  suppression  of  these  instincts 
and  tastes  over  three  or  four  generations,  and  for  the 
lowering  of  the  musical  level  of  an  entire  district  for 
an  indefinite  period,  thereby  restricting  the  general  de- 
velopment of  the  country  as  a  whole.  The  influence  of 
these  teachers  is  so  pernicious,  from  our  point  of  view, 
that  we  cannot  allow  sentimental  considerations  in 
their  favour  to  stand  in  the  way  of  the  interests  of 
the  musical  culture  of  a  whole  people.  The  danger  of 
retaining  as  music  teachers  pedants  without  either  the 
ear  or  the  voice  for  their  vocation  is  so  patent  that  it 
seems  incredible  that,  intelligent  and  enlightened  in- 
dividuals, as  are  the  majority  of  administrators,  should 
not  long  ago  have  recognised  the  urgent  necessity  of 
putting  matters  on  an  entirely  new  footing.  We  should 
not  omit  to  mention  that  those  among  the  present 
staffs  who  are  really  good  musicians,  with  a  genuine 
love  of  music  and  a  keen  interest  in  its  pursuit  (and  we 
know  a  number  of  them)  would  have  nothing  to  fear 
from  the  revolution  we  are  advocating;  it  would  be  a 
public  loss  to  deprive  them  of  their  posts.  Zealous  in 
their  devotion  to  music,  they  ask  no  better  than  to  be 
allowed  to  assimilate  new  methods,  and  to  be  given 
the  opportunity  of  completing  their  training  in  peda- 
gogy. As  regards  masters  whose  musical  incapacities 
would  bring  them  under  the  ban  of  the  new  order,  we 
can  hardly  think  that  they  would  care  to  complain. 
To  give  lessons  in  a  subject  in  which  one  is  neither 
learned  nor  interested  must  be  a  severe  trial  for  a  man 
of  any  sensitiveness;  nothing  is  more  unpleasant  than 
to  know  oneself  incapable  of  doing  what  it  is  one's 


Music  Teaching  in  Schools          33 

business  to  teach  others  to  do.  For  this  among  many 
other  reasons,  it  is  of  the  first  importance  that  the 
musical  education  in  primary  schools — as  well  as  in  the 
higher  schools — should  be  in  the  hands  of  musicians. 
On  the  musical  talents  of  the  master  depend  the  whole 
progress  of  the  pupils,  and,  indeed,  any  interest  in  their 
lessons  can  only  be  roused  by  a  corresponding  keenness 
displayed  by  the  master  giving  them. 

With  all  due  respect  to  certain  theorists  to  whom  the 
vibrations  produced  by  the  scratching  of  a  pen  on 
paper  are  as  agreeable  to  the  ear  as  those  produced  by 
the  "sweet  sounds  of  music,"  the  hearing  is  an  import- 
ant element  in  the  pleasure  to  be  derived  from  music, 
whether  exercised  in  the  analysis  or  creation  of  sounds, 
or  in  the  appreciation  of  their  harmonic  combinations 
and  melodic  successions.  We  would  go  so  far  as  to 
assert — at  the  risk  of  incensing  certain  critics  of  our 
acquaintance — that  it  is  hardly  possible  to  appreciate, 
to  judge,  or  even  to  hear  music  without  a  good  ear. 
The  most  desirable  method  of  teaching  music  is,  there- 
fore, in  our  judgment,  one  which,  while  enabling  the 
pupil  as  speedily  as  possible  to  appreciate  melodies, 
rhythms,  and  harmonies,  is  most  efficacious  in  the 
development  of  the  auditive  faculties  on  which  musical 
taste  and  judgment  ultimately  depend.  From  this 
point  of  view,  collective  training  in  schools  offers  a 
distinct  advantage  over  the  conservatoire  system. 
Practical  considerations  obliging  pupils  to  dispense  with 
the  aid  of  instruments,  they  must  fall  back  on  them- 
selves, emitting  with  their  voices  the  sounds  they  are 
required  to  distinguish;  and  there  is  so  intimate  a  con- 
nection between  the  vocal  and  the  aural  processes, 


34      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

that  the  development  of  the  one  virtually  involves  the 
development  of  the  other.  The  mechanical  production 
of  sounds  on  an  instrument  does  not  call  for  any  special 
effort  on  the  part  of  the  ear:  the  latter  serves  merely 
as  an  agent  of  control,  and  indeed,  failing  it,  the  agency 
of  sight  or  of  touch  is  sufficient  for  producing  the  con- 
ventionally rough  accuracy.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
efforts  necessary  to  assure  the  accuracy  of  vocal  sounds 
conduce  to  the  steady  development  of  aural  faculties. 
In  other  words,  while  training  with  the  aid  of  an  instru- 
ment may  tend  to  develop  the  hearing,  that  based  on 
singing  is  calculated  to  refine  the  listening  capacities. 

The  choice  of  a  teacher  is,  then,  of  the  highest  im- 
portance in  the  training  of  the  ear.  He  must  neces- 
sarily possess  normal  sense  of  hearing,  be  a  practical 
musician,  and  understand  the  laws  of  vocal  emission. 
He  must  be  versed  in  singing  and  in  the  principles 
that  regulate  breathing  and  articulation,  possessing  a 
special  knowledge  of  the  vocal  registers  of  children. 
At  the  present  day  no  attempt  is  made  to  develop 
children's  voices  at  school.  They  are  given  no  training 
in  pulmonary  "gymnastics,"  and  are  thereby  deprived 
of  an  invaluable  hygienic  expedient.  Their  head-notes 
go  uncultivated,  to  the  irreparable  detriment  of  their 
vocal  system.  A  music  teacher  should  know  how  to 
develop  every  medium  of  physical  expression  in  his 
pupils. 

He  should  be,  in  addition,  and  no  less  indispensably, 
an  artist  of  taste  and  talent,  and  a  man  of  tact  and 
authority,  fond  of  children  and  knowing  how  to  handle 
them.  "Non  est  loquendum,  sed  gubernandum!"  If,  as 
will  be  admitted,  it  is  not  enough  for  a  teacher  of  prac- 


Music  Teaching  in  Schools          35 

tical  subjects,  like  geography  and  history,  to  be  well 
versed  in  his  facts,  in  order  to  obtain  satisfactory  and 
lasting  results;  if  such  results  in  these  subjects  depend 
rather  on  the  material  of  general  interest  the  master 
can  extract  from  them  (such  as  the  application  of  their 
moral  and  social  inferences) ,  by  how  much  more  should 
we  insist  on  other  than  technical  competence,  in  those 
who  are  to  be  entrusted  with  the  artistic  education  of 
our  children.  The  music  teacher  should  make  it  his 
first  business  to  create  a  feeling  for  beauty  in  the  souls 
of  his  pupils.  We  are  in  the  habit  of  discoursing  to 
children  of  beauty  without  explaining  what  it  means. 
It  is,  however,  just  as  dangerous  to  "err  in  teaching 
beauty  as  in  teaching  truth."  The  master  should  also 
be  careful  to  reveal  to  them  the  existence  of  a  conven- 
tional and  false  conception  of  art,  in  order  that  they 
may  be  on  their  guard  against  it.  He  should  be  able 
to  illustrate  his  precepts  with  examples  from  the  great 
masters,  and  to  demonstrate  how  and  by  whom  art  has 
been  developed  down  to  the  present  day,  and  in  what 
respects  it  is  capable  of  further  development.  He  should 
arouse  in  them  an  enthusiasm  for  masterpieces,  and  an 
ambition  to  interpret  them  according  to  the  intentions 
of  their  creators.  The  greatest  of  his  attributes  should 
be  the  power  of  suggestion,  and,  in  the  words  of  J.  F. 
Amiel  (extracted  from  a  comparison  very  pertinent  to 
the  matter  in  hand),  "he  should  be  able  to  read  the 
child's  soul  like  a  musical  score,  and,  merely  by  trans- 
posing the  key,  adapt  the  song  without  sacrificing  any 
of  its  charm." 

It  will  be  objected  that  the  handling  of  questions  of 
taste,  and  of  aesthetics  generally,  should  be  left  to  the 


36      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

experts  of  higher  schools,  and  that  instruction  in  ele- 
mentary schools  should  be  limited  to  the  study  of 
technique.  On  the  contrary,  we  assert,  after  a  careful 
survey  of  the  whole  problem,  that  it  is  at  the  commence- 
ment that  initiation  into  the  essence  of  beauty  should 
be  undertaken  in  conjunction  with  technical  training. 
How  is  one  ever  to  attain  technical  proficiency  without 
a  love  for  the  object  of  its  application?  The  aesthetic 
sense  should  be  cultivated  contemporaneously  with  the 
study  of  the  elementary  laws  of  the  art,  and,  from  the 
first  lessons,  the  child  should  be  made  to  realise 
that  the  training  is  directed  as  much  to  the  heart  as 
to  the  brain,  and  that  he  must  try  to  love  as  well  as 
to  understand. 

The  only  real  obstacle  in  the  way  of  our  scheme  is 
the  selection  of  instructors  for  the  first  five  or  six  years 
of  its  application.  Later  on,  the  selection  will  operate 
almost  mechanically — as  we  shall  see  in  a  minute — 
among  the  more  talented  members  of  the  "finishing" 
classes,  but  pending  this  solution  of  the  problem,  resort 
will  have  to  be  made  to  the  kind  offices  of  "interim" 
instructors,  on  whom  will  rest  the  heavy  responsibility 
of  initiating  pupils  into  future  duties  of  so  high  im- 
portance. The  whole  artistic  future  of  the  country  will 
lie  in  their  hands,  dependent  on  their  zeal,  conscien- 
tiousness, and  skilfulness.  Stationed  in  the  place  of 
honour,  theirs  will  be  the  noble  mission  of  arousing  a 
feeling  for  beauty  in  the  hearts  of  their  young  com- 
patriots, and  of  providing,  for  future  purposes,  a  school 
of  competent  instructors,  alive  to  the  practical  value  of 
their  art,  and  fired  with  the  ambition  to  propagate  it 
and  stimulate  love  for  it. 


Music  Teaching  in  Schools          37 


If,  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  artistic  development 
of  the  people,  the  compulsory  teaching  of  music  in  our 
schools  offers  the  immense  advantage  of  bringing  latent 
talent  to  light  and  of  assuring  to  musical  temperaments 
the  necessary  training  from  childhood  upwards,  it 
would  be  highly  dangerous  that  this  tuition  should  be 
the  same  for  highly  gifted,  less  gifted,  and  ungifted 
children  indiscriminately.  We  must  never  forget  that 
we  are  concerned  with  the  teaching  of,  not  a  science, 
but  an  art.  "A  child  may  have  a  taste  for  science," 
says  La  Rochefoucauld,  "but  not  every  science  will 
agree  with  him."  Not  every  child  is  born  an  artist 
and  while  we  may  find  cases  where  musical  instinct, 
dormant  or  otherwise  concealed,  is  brought  to  light 
by  careful  handling,  most  often  training  will  only  avail 
with  children  more  or  less  predestined  to  come  under 
its  influence.  As  Sancho  Panza  proclaimed :  ' '  He  who 
hasn't  enough  has  nothing."  In  proverbial  parlance, 
the  most  beautiful  girl  in  the  world  can  only  give  what 
she's  got;  where  there  is  nothing  to  give,  the  Devil 
loses  his  rights;  you  can't  get  leaves  from  a  dead  tree, 
or  an  omelette  without  eggs;  sauce  doesn't  make  fish; 
not  every  one  is  fated  to  go  to  Corinth ;  catch  your  hare 
before  you  jug  it!  .  .  .  All  of  which  goes  to  prove 
that  no  manner  of  means  will  succeed  in  making  a 
child  musical,  if  he  hasn't  the  germ  of  music  in  him  from 
the  first.  The  moral  would  seem  to  be  that  only  the 
most  gifted  children  should  receive  a  musical  training 
at  all.  But,  as  our  old  friend  Sancho  Panza  concludes: 
"A  single  rotten  apple  will  contaminate  the  whole 
basketful ! ' '  And  this  proverb,  based  on  the  observation 


38      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

of  a  natural  phenomenon  of  universal  application,  puts 
us  on  the  road  to  an  important  reform.  The  complete 
lack  of  aptitude  of  a  few  pupils  in  a  class  will  prejudice 
the  progress  of  the  class  as  a  whole.  We  must,  therefore, 
after  a  certain  period  of  observation,  disqualify  from 
further  musical  tuition  every  pupil  who  lacks  a  good 
voice,  a  good  ear,  and  a  sense  of  time  and  rhythm. 

People  will  stand  aghast  at  the  complications  this 
system  of  elimination  threatens  to  introduce  into  the 
organisation  of  lessons,  but  these  are  more  apparent 
than  real.  There  are  fortunately  very  few  cases — 
at  most  five  per  cent. — of  complete  musical  incapa- 
city, both  auditive  and  rhythmic,1  and,  by  reason  of 
their  rarity,  they  are  as  easy  to  recognise  and  classify 
as  cases  of  idiocy  in  general  school  work,  or  of  crimi- 
nality in  everyday  life.  After  a  year  of  musical  train- 
ing (the  results  of  an  entrance  examination  will  not  be 
conclusive,  since  false  voices  are  curable  by  practice, 
while  careful  exercises  will  often  rectify  inactivity  of 
the  ear  and  insensibility  to  time) — after  a  year,  let 
us  say,  of  musical  training,  the  teacher  will  have  been 
able  to  pick  out  any  members  of  his  class  totally  incap- 
able of  following  the  course,  and  will  transfer  them  to 
special  classes.  There  will  always  remain  the  resource, 
should  they  still  desire  to  study  music,  of  following  a 
course  at  one  or  other  of  the  conservatoires !  The  first 
classification,  by  the  elimination  of  "incurables,"  will 
enable  the  class  to  proceed  to  its  second  year's  activity 
under  far  more  favourable  conditions,  and  will  be  fol- 
lowed by  a  series  of  successive  classifications,  which  we 
will  now  proceed  summarily  to  indicate.  By  this  means 

1  See  Chapter  XIV  infra,  pp.  309,  et  seq_. 


Music  Teaching  in  Schools          39 

the  organisation  of  lessons  will  be  established  on  a  clear 
and  practicable  footing. 

Let  us  assume  the  whole  course  to  occupy  six  years. 

After  the  first  year  a  few  pupils  find  themselves,  on 
examination,  withdrawn  from  the  class.  The  same  ex- 
amination will  establish  that  the  remaining  pupils  are 
gifted  in  varying  degrees  in  sense  of  rhythm,  vocal 
accuracy,  and  hearing  capacity.  Some  will  possess  all 
three  qualities,  others  the  first  two,  others  again  the 
latter  two.  Those  who  have  a  good  voice  and  ear,  but 
are  devoid  of  instinct  for  rhythm,  will  be  set  a  double 
course  of  a  particular  rhythmic  training,  of  which  we 
will  treat  later  on,  and  which  is  included  in  the  syllabus 
of  the  first  year.  While  repeating  this  special  course, 
they  will  continue  the  ordinary  studies  of  the  second 
year.  At  the  end  of  this  year  an  examination  will 
enable  a  fresh  classification  to  be  made,  which,  after 
definitely  eliminating  untrainable  voices,  will  divide  the 
remaining  pupils  into  the  following  categories: — 

(a)  Pupils  recognised  from  the  first  as  possessing  all 
three  qualities,  together  with  those  who  at  the 
first  examination,  showed  signs  only  of  two 
qualities,  but  have  acquired  the  third  in  the 
course  of  their  second  year's  training. 

(6)  Pupils  with  bad  voices,  but  possessing  the  other 
two  qualities. 

(c)  Pupils  with  undeveloped  hearing  faculties,  but  pos- 

sessing a  sense  of  rhythm  and  a  capacity, 
thanks  to  the  flexibility  of  their  vocal  apparatus, 
of  singing  accurately  in  association  with  a  choir 
(a  fairly  common  phenomenon). 

(d)  Pupils  with  good  ears  and  voices,  but  lacking  in 

sense  of  rhythm. 


40      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

This  classification  will  enable  the  master  to  divide 
the  pupils  of  the  third  year  into  two  parallel  sections : 

The  first  (Section  I.)  will  comprise  pupils  from  classes 
(a)  and  (6).  The  latter  (those  with  untrainable  voices, 
but  with  good  ear,  and  rhythmic  sense  inherent  or 
acquired)  will  take  no  part  in  the  singing,  but  will 
confine  themselves  to  listening  to  the  singing  and 
beating  time. 

Section  II.  will  consist  of  members  of  class  (c)  who, 
in  the  course  of  the  third  year  will  endeavour  to  perfect 
their  hearing  faculties,  and  members  of  class  (d),  who 
will  continue  their  training  in  rhythmic  movement. 

After  the  examination  at  the  end  of  the  third  year, 
a  penultimate  classification  will  be  made.  Those  mem- 
bers of  class  (b)  who  may  have  acquired  during  the  year 
the  qualities  in  which  they  were  previously  deficient 
will  be  transferred  to  Section  I.  All  those  who  remain 
devoid  of  rhythmic  sense  will  be  definitely  eliminated. 

Section  I.  will  thus  comprise  all  those  who  possess  the 
three  qualities  necessary  to  make  the  complete  musician, 
as  well  as  those  with  an  instinct  for  rhythm,  a  good  ear, 
and  a  bad  voice. 

Section  II.  will  be  composed  of  pupils  with  an  instinct 
for  rhythm,  but  whose  ear,  while  incapable  of  analys- 
ing chords  and  appreciating  musical  nuances,  is  yet 
sufficiently  accurate  to  control  the  natural  precision 
of  the  voice. 

These  two  sections  will  proceed  to  train  concurrently, 
during  the  following  two  years  of  the  course,  at  the 
rate  of  an  hour  a  week.  A  final  classification  will  take 
place  at  the  end  of  the  fifth  year,  and  will  yield  the 
following  results: 


Music  Teaching  in  Schools          41 

Section  I.  will  be  divided  into  two.  Section  I.  (a)  will 
consist  of  members  of  Section  I.  who  show  particular 
musical  promise.  They  will  be  accorded  during  the 
sixth  year  a  more  complete  training.  Section  I.  (b) 
(consisting  of  those  not  transferred  to  Section  I.  (a)) 
and  Section  II.  will  continue  their  previous  course. 

Finally,  at  the  end  of  the  sixth  year  of  study,  the  best 
pupils  in  Section  I.  (a)  will  be  admitted,  after  an  exami- 
nation, to  a  training  college  course  designed  for  the 
training  of  music  masters. 

"All  that  is  no  doubt  very  ingenious " 

"Hullo,  Mr.  So-and-So,  you're  back  again?" 

"All  that,  I  say,  my  dear  sir,  looks  highly  ingenious 
on  paper,  but  is,  in  my  opinion,  quite  impracticable. 
(I  may  tell  you  that  your  classifications  have  made  my 
head  ache.)  In  the  first  place,  some  of  the  classes  will 
require  to  devote  two  hours  a  week  to  this  wonderful 
course  of  Eurhythmies  of  which  you  said  you  would 
treat  later  on " 

"Excuse  me,  but  there  would  be  no  question  of  a 
supplementary  course  for  the  pupils  in  question.  They 
would  simply  be  asked  to  attend  for  the  second  time 
the  course  that  first-year  pupils  would  be  taking  for 
the  first  time." 

"Very  good,  then.  All  the  same,  once  you've  split 
up  the  class  into  two  sections,  you'll  require  an  hour's 
lesson  for  each  section,  which  makes  two  together,  if 
I'm  not  mistaken." 

"Your  calculation  is  correct,  Mr.  So-and-So.  I  pro- 
pose to  give  the  class  two  hours  a  week  for  three  years, 
and  even  three  hours  during  the  third  year,  when  Section 
I.  will  be  divided  into  (a)  and  (6).  But  this  will  not 


42      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

involve  a  reduction  of  hours  in  other  branches,  the 
lessons  being  shared  by  three  sections  of  the  same 
class." 

"And  the  cost?" 

"The  increased  cost  will  not  be  very  great,  and  will 
be  largely  compensated  by  the  undeniable  advantages 
of  the  classification.  Incidentally  several  Swiss  schools 
already  devote  two  hours  a  week  to  music  lessons. 
These  will  benefit  materially  from  my  method,  which 
during  the  first  two  years  will  require  only  one  lesson  a 
week."1 

"Granted!  I  have  a  more  serious  objection  to  raise: 
your  classification  will  be  very  difficult  to  work  in  prac- 
tice. How  is  your  jury  going  to  decide  that  certain 
pupils  are  devoid  of  aural  accuracy?" 

' '  By  perceiving  that  they  are  unable  to  recognise  and 
reproduce  intervals  that  will  be  sung  to  them." 

"And  inaccuracy  of  voice?" 

"By  their  singing  out  of  tune." 

"And  sense  of  rhythm?" 

"By  their  incapacity  to  divide  time  into  equal  beats 
or  to  accentuate  strong  beats." 

"But  you  were  speaking  of  relative  aural  accuracy." 

"That  is  possessed  by  those  who  can  recognise  the 
notes  of  a  tune  only  by  comparison  with  a  given  note: 
while  those  who  can  recognise  them  without  reference 
to  a  standard  possess  'absolute  pitch/  and  those  who 
are  able  to  analyse  combinations  of  sound  can  claim  to 
have  the  completely  musical  ear.  You  yourself  shall 
furnish  an  example.  What  is  this  note?" 

1  The  last  few  years'  experience  has  convinced  me  that  two  hours  a 
week  are  absolutely  necessary. — E.  J.  D.  (1919.) 


Music  Teaching  in  Schools         43 

"Yes,  yes,  another  time!  .    .    .     So  you  expect  your 
examiners  to  understand  these  fine  shades?" 
"They  will  be  professional  musicians." 
"Who  will  never  make  a  mistake  in  their  diagnoses? " 
"Everyone  is  liable  to  make  a  mistake.     But  be 
sure  of  this :    Such  mistakes  as  they  may  make  will  not 
have  anything  like  such  serious  consequences  as  the 
mistakes  of  the  present  system,  in  allowing  incompe- 
tents to  clog  the  progress  of  classes.     Besides,  our 
examiners  will  commit  errors  only  of  detail,  and  these 
could  easily  be  rectified  by  the  regular  teacher;  and  if 
he  should  share  in  any  serious  blunder,  pupils  could 
always  resort  to  private  tuition." 

"Between  ourselves  (I  won't  tell  anyone),  isn't  this 
classification  of  pupils  into  sections  of  those  possessing 
the  three  qualities,  those  possessing  only  two  and  so 
on — isn't  the  whole  thing  an  artistic  chinoiserie?  Do 
you  seriously  believe  it  to  have  any  practical,  sensible, 
useful  object?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  So-and-So,  a  highly  practical,  sensible, 
and  useful  object.  The  object  of  not  exacting  from 
pupils  more  than  they  are  capable  of  giving :  of  carrying 
each  one  as  far  as  he  can  go;  of  not  discouraging  the 
less  gifted  ones  by  making  them  -associate  with  those 
to  whom  their  labours  are  child's  play:  of  not  exposing 
born  musicians  to  the  temptation  to  slack,  by  permit- 
ting them  to  compete  with  their  slower-witted  compan- 
ions. I  say  again,  music  is  an  art  rather  than  a  science. 
To  learn  music  it  is  not  enough  to  be  clever;  it  is 
necessary  in  addition  to  be  something  of  an  artist. 
To  confine  school  music-teaching  to  elementary  facts 
is  to  bring  it  down  to  the  level  of  the  mediocre,  and  to 


44      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

impede  the  free  development  of  the  naturally  gifted. 
If  you  are  going  to  deny  these  a  more  complete  train- 
ing, you  might  as  well  give  them  none  at  all,  for  school- 
children— boys  especially — have  little  time  for  private 
art  studies.  Initiate  schools  into  art,  but  not  spurious 
art.  Display  all  its  beauties  to  those  whom  a  judicious 
examination  has  shown  to  be  capable  of  appreciating 
them.  As  for  the  others,  put  them  in  special  classes. 
These  children  of  average  capacity  so  segregated  will 
no  longer  have  their  natural  instincts  of  emulation 
damped  by  the  knowledge  that,  however  well  they  work, 
they  can  never  come  out  on  top.  They  will  progress 
according  to  their  powers,  and  will  leave  school  with  a 
moderate  appreciation  of  music,  trained  to  fill  their 
place  in  the  art  world,  as  intelligent  amateurs  and 
members  of  musical  societies.  As  for  the  talented,  they 
will  push  forward,  freed  from  their  shackles,  and  giving 
full  rein  to  their  natural  instincts.  Their  goal,  further 
removed  and  higher,  will  be  more  difficult  to  attain: 
that  will  not  deter  them,  once  they  are  able  to  spread 
their  wings.  The  teacher  will  lead  them  to  the  point 
whence  they  can  clearly  discern  it,  and  thence,  guided 
by  their  instinct,  by  dint  of  hard  work,  sustained  by 
faith  and  courage,  they  will  attain  it  ...  our  artists 
of  to-morrow!" 

If  you  ask  a  teacher  which  is  the  best  method  of 
tuition,  he  will  not  reply  point  blank,  "Mine !" — modesty 
being  one  of  the  pedagogic  virtues.  But  the  chances 
are  that  the  method  he  will  proceed  to  recommend  will 
be  really  his.  You  will  recognise  it,  incidentally,  by 
analogy  with  the  character  of  its  creator.  According 


Music  Teaching  in  Schools          45 

as  he  may  be  a  pedant,  a  hustler,  a  fool,  or  a  poseur, 
the  method  will  be  artificial,  foolish,  hustling,  or  pe- 
dantic. What  is  more,  children  exposed  to  this  method, 
unless  they  possess  highly  individual  temperaments,  will 
turn  out  pedants,  hustlers,  fools,  or  poseurs.  As  surely 
as  men  are  descended  from  apes,  so  surely  children, 
trained  on  obsolete  methods,  show  a  tendency  to  revert 
to  that  status.  The  true  educator's  task  should  be, 
while  guiding  the  child's  will,  to  bring  his  individual 
qualities  to  light.  It  is  better  to  provide  him  with  the 
means  of  choosing  between  good  and  evil,  beauty  and 
ugliness,  than  to  show  him  either  only  the  good  and 
beautiful  or  only  the  bad.  His  spirit  should  be  kindled 
with  a  faint  glow  which  increases  with  its  own  reflection. 
In  Montaigne's  words :  ' '  The  child's  imagination  should 
be  stimulated  to  a  frank  curiosity  as  to  the  things  we 
wish  him  to  learn,  and  guided,  by  judiciously  whetting 
his  appetite  for  knowledge."  The  best  method  of 
teaching  is  that  which,  from  the  start,  offers  the  pupil 
a  problem  which  neither  his  memory  nor  his  instinct 
for  imitation  can  help  him  to  solve.  After  a  year  of 
preliminaries,  of  rhythmic  exercises,  which  at  once  ap- 
pease the  child's  need  for  movement  and  recreation, 
and  inaugurate  his  physical  and  mental  development — 
after  a  course  of  training  for  the  lips  and  tongue  pro- 
vided by  the  study  of  vowels  and  consonants — singing 
lessons  proper  may  safely  be  embarked  upon.  At  this 
stage,  the  commencement  of  the  technical  side  of  the 
training,  the  music  master's  first  care  should  be  to  make 
the  child  appreciate  the  difference  between  tones  and 
semitones.  So  long  as  he  is  unable  to  distinguish 
these  infallibly,  whether  in  singing  or  listening,  any 


46      Rhythm,  Music  and  Education 

attempt  at  approaching  another  stage  of  the  course 
would  be  an  error  analogous  to  teaching  the  words  of 
a  language  before  the  letters  are  known.  I  venture  to 
assert  that  nine  tenths  of  singing  and  instrumental 
masters  set  their  pupils  to  learn  scales  before  they  have 
attained  anything  like  proficiency  in  this  elementary 
course.  Under  these  conditions,  how  are  children  ever 
to  learn  to  recognise  keys  or  acquire  a  sound  compre- 
hension of  music? 

Every  sound  method  of  teaching  music  must  be 
based  on  the  hearing,  as  much  as  on  the  emission,  of 
sounds.  If  the  hearing  faculties  of  a  pupil  are  weak, 
they  must  be  developed  before  he  undertakes  the  study 
of  theory.  The  noise  of  a  drum  calls  for  neither  analy- 
sis nor  reflection  (that  is  why  the  drum  is  so  essentially 
a  military  instrument).  To  many  children,  all  sound  is 
merely  a  noise,  and  it  would  be  manifestly  absurd  to 
commence  their  training  with  a  comparative  study  of 
noises.  Only  by  the  application  of  thought  will  they 
come  to  recognise  the  point  where  sound  supersedes 
noise.  Their  thought  should  therefore  be  stimulated 
and  given  a  direction :  there  will  be  time  enough  after- 
wards to  start  training  their  memories.  "Memory," 
wrote  Diderot,  "only  preserves  traces  of  sensations  and 
consequent  mental  processes  that  have  had  the  degree 
of  force  to  produce  vital  impressions." 

And  here  we  approach  the  vexed  but  important 
question  of  absolute  pitch,  that  is,  the  innate  and  natu- 
ral perception  of  the  place  of  each  sound  in  the  whole 
gamut  of  sounds,  and  of  the  correspondence  between 
the  sound  and  conventional  word  (or  letter)  by  which 
it  is  known.  There  are  children  who,  as  soon  as  they 


Music  Teaching  in  Schools          47 

have  learnt  the  names  of  the  notes,  will  announce  on 
hearing  a  sound:  "That's  an  A,  an  E,  an  F  sharp," 
without  requiring  any  further  thought  than  if  they 
were  to  pronounce  a  tree  in  spring  as  being  green. 
Many  pedagogues  believe  absolute  pitch  to  be  innate 
and  incapable  of  acquirement  by  practice.  Well  and 
good;  but  practice  can  certainly  create  "relative"  pitch. 
Once  the  child  is  sufficiently  advanced  to  appreciate, 
without  ever  making  a  mistake  (specialists  will  under- 
stand the  importance  of  this  "ever")  the  difference 
between  the  tone  and  the  semitone,  it  is  possible  by 
comparison  and  suggestion  to  establish  in  his  mind  an 
immediate  correspondence  between  a  note  and  its  name. 
This  training  should  set  in  motion  a  constant  associa- 
tion of  sub-conscious  ideas.  The  means  of  awakening 
and  co-ordinating  these  ideas  forms  the  natural  basis 
of  a  sound  method  of  music  teaching.  Our  space  here 
being  limited,  we  must  refer  readers  to  special  works 
for  further  information  on  this  subject.  We  pause 
merely  to  record  our  firm  conviction,  based  on  consid- 
erable experience,  that  relative  pitch  is  capable  of  being 
developed,  by  means  of  training,  in  everyone  possess- 
ing a  good  ear,  provided  such  training  be  commenced  at 
an  early  age  and  precede  the  study  of  an  instrument. 

Absolute  pitch,  incidentally,  is  only  indispensable 
to  a  musician  who  proposes  to  teach  music,  and  if  I 
have  laboured  the  need  for  bringing  it  out  in  the  child, 
it  is  only  because — be  it  remembered — our  training  is 
designed  to  prepare  the  most  talented  students  for  the 
profession  of  music  teachers. 

As  soon  as  pupils  can  distinguish  between  tones  and 
semitones,  they  can  commence  the  comparative  study 


48      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

of  scales,  that  is,  the  successions  of  tones  and  semitones 
which  give  the  character  of  a  key.  In  this  connection, 
we  venture  to  mention  a  little  plan  we  ourselves  have 
adopted,  as  a  result  of  considerable  professional  ex- 
perience. Each  scale  being  formed  from  the  same  suc- 
cession of  tones  and  semitones,  in  unvarying  order, 
the  pupil  will  only  be  able  to  distinguish  one  from  an- 
other from  the  position  of  its  tonic.  The  inter-relations 
of  scales  will  escape  him,  since,  to  his  ear,  the  scale  of 
A  flat,  for  example,  would  be  merely  the  melody  of  the 
scale  of  C  transposed  to  a  minor  sixth  higher,  or  a  major 
third  lower.  But  if  you  make  him  trace  the  succession 
of  notes  of  the  scale  of  A  flat  commencing  from  C,  the 
tonic  of  the  scale  of  C  (namely:  C,  D  flat,  E  flat,  F,  G, 
A  flat,  B  flat,  C),  the  pupil  will  see  at  once  that  the  mel- 
ody differs  from  that  of  the  scale  of  C.  He  will  notice 
that  the  tones  and  semitones  are  not  in  the  same  posi- 
tions, and  (being  familiar  with  the  order  of  tones  and 
semitones  in  a  scale  extending  from  tonic  to  tonic) 
will  be  able,  by  remarking  the  places  they  occupy  in 
the  scale  in  question,  to  find  the  tonic  for  the  scale,  and 
so  identify  the  key.  By  this  means  a  pupil  may  learn 
in  a  year  to  distinguish  any  key.  The  choice  of  C  as 
the  initial  note  enables  any  voice  to  sing  all  the  scales, 
identifying  them  from  the  variations  involved  in  the 
order  of  succession  of  tones  and  semitones.  In  other 
systems  this  would  be  impracticable  with  children 
whose  voices  have  not  a  large  compass,  or  beginners 
restricted  to  a  small  register.  Indeed,  apart  from  the 
compass  of  the  voice,  the  old  systems  depend  on  tedious 
effects  of  transposition,  and,  if  they  allow  the  singing 
of  certain  scales  at  their  true  pitch,  they  neglect  to 


0) 

o 


§ 

C/2 


Music  Teaching  in  Schools          49 

inculcate  the-  inter-relations  of  the  scales  which  is 
practicable  only  by  our  method  of  varying  the  succes- 
sion of  notes  between  the  tonics  of  C. 

Another  advantage  of  our  system  is  that,  before  long, 
it  so  impresses  the  C  on  the  memory,  that  a  student 
is  enabled  to  sing  to  pitch,  without  resorting  to  the 
tuning-fork.  It  is  invaluable  from  the  point  of  view  of 
music-hearing.  The  pupil  trained  by  our  method  has 
no  difficulty  in  discerning  the  key  of  any  piece,  thanks 
to  the  perception  of  the  alterations  effected  in  the  tonic 
scale  of  C,  and,  accustomed  to  sing  any  interval  in  any 
setting  (that  is  in  any  key),  he  will  be  able  to  recognise 
any  note  irrespective  of  the  instrument  that  produces  it. 

It  is,  therefore,  of  the  highest  importance  that  the 
teacher  should  engrave  the  fundamental  C  on  the  memo- 
ries— in  the  very  gullets,  we  might  say — of  his  pupils. T 
He  should  also,  in  furtherance  of  his  main  object,  im- 
pose, as  a  set-off  to  exercises  of  intonation,  what  one 
might  call  exercises  of  recognition  or  appellation,  just 
as  in  the  primary  school  reading  and  writing  are  taught 
simultaneously.  On  leaving  the  solfege  course,  the 
student  should  be  able  to  name  the  notes  in  an  exercise 
sung  by  another,  as  well  as  to  sing  them  himself.  To 
achieve  this  result,  the  master  should  accustom  him 
from  the  first  to  identify  the  key  in  which  another  stu- 
dent is  singing  a  stock  exercise;  next,  to  name  or  write 
at  dictation  the  notes  of  an  exercise  taken  at  haphazard ; 
finally,  to  distinguish  any  notes  in  any  key.  I  cannot 
over-emphasise  the  importance  of  this  training ;  it  pro- 

1  Or  the  A,  or  any  other  note;  but  C  has  the  advantage  of  being  the 
tonic  of  the  typescale.  The  sensation  of  its  sound  is  impressed  by  the 
cultivation  of  the  muscular  sense. 


50      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

vides,  so  to  speak,  a  double  development  of  musical 
faculties. 

But  whether  one  adopts  my  system  or  another  is  of  little 
matter.  The  essential  is  that  the  study  of  keys  should 
be  undertaken  as  conscientiously  and  as  meticulously  as 
possible.  The  course  should  extend  over  two  or  three 
years,  or  even  more — long  enough,  in  any  case,  to  enable 
us  to  say  of  the  pupil's  knowledge  of  the  inter-relations 
of  the  keys  that,  in  the  phrase  of  Montaigne:  "It  is 
not  incorporated  in  the  spirit,  but  attached  to  it;  for 
the  soul  should  be  widened,  not  merely  soaked  in  a 
thing,  and  if  it  is  not  to  be  enlarged  by  learning,  better 
leave  it  alone  altogether." 

Once  the  scales  are  mastered,  the  remaining  musical 
studies — with  the  material  exception  of  those  of  a 
rhythmic  order — will  be  child's  play,  the  pupil  finding 
an  explanation  for  everything  by  reference  to  the  scales : 
intervals  will  be  seen  as  fragments  of  scales,  with 
intermediate  sounds  left  out ;  chords  as  notes  of  a  scale 
on  top  of  one  another;  resolutions  as  the  property 
given  to  notes  of  a  scale  left  suspended  to  continue 
their  progress;  modulation  as  the  linking  of  one  scale 
with  another.  .  .  .  Everything  relating  to  melody 
and  harmony  is  implicit  in  the  comparative  study  of 
keys,  and  becomes  thereafter  only  a  question  of  ter- 
minology and  classification. 

There  remains  the  element  of  rhythm,  which  is  also 
of  the  highest  importance.  Analogous  to  absolute 
pitch  we  may  find  an  instinctive  feeling  for  rhythm, 
which  may  be  awakened  and  developed  by  practice. 

The  gift  of  musical  rhythm  is  not  a  mere  mental 


Music  Teaching  in  Schools         51 

affair;  it  is  physical  in  essence.  Diderot  calls  it  "the 
very  image  of  the  soul  reproduced  in  the  inflexions  of 
the  voice,  the  successive  variations  of  passages  of  a 
speech,  accelerations,  deliberations,  sparkles,  gulps, 
punctuated  in  a  hundred  different  ways."  For  our 
part,  we  regard  it  as  the  reflex  of  instinctive  corporal 
movements,  and  as  dependent  on  the  gait,  balance,  and 
general  harmony  of  those  movements.  If  a  .child,  in 
good  health  and  otherwise  without  physical  defect, 
shows  some  irregularity  in  his  gait,  this  irregularity 
will  correspond  in  music  to  an  irregular  manner  of 
measuring  time.  If,  through  lack  of  balance  in  his 
movements,  he  finds  difficulty,  according  as  he  starts 
with  the  left  or  right  foot,  in  accentuating  by  a  stamp, 
each  first  step  of  an  alternating  series  in  2,  3,  or  4 
time  he  will  have  the  same  difficulty  in  accentuating 
musically  the  first  beats  in  bars  of  f ,  f ,  or  •£-.  If,  in 
making  four  steps,  he  has  a  tendency  to  make  the 
fourth  shorter  than  the  first,  or  vice  versa,  just  the  same 
awkwardness  will  be  reflected  in  his  musical  execution. 
...  A  regular  step  is  the  natural  apportioner  of  time 
into  equal  fractions,  and  is  the  model  of  what  we  call 
measure.  The  emphasis  of  one  step  in  two,  in  three, 
or  in  four  respectively  creates  metrical  accentuation. 
And  where,  in  the  course  of  a  series  of  equal  steps,  a 
movement  of  the  hand  emphasises  now  one  step,  now 
another,  the  gesture  at  once  creates  pathetic  rhythmic 
accentuation.  Set  a  child  to  sing  while  in  motion;  if 
his  steps  do  not  coincide  with  the  beat  of  the  time  he 
is  singing,  or  which  others  may  be  singing,  he  is  lacking 
in  a  natural  sense  of  time-measure.  If  he  is  unable  at 
will  to  accentuate  one  or  another  of  the  steps,  he  is 


52      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

lacking  in  a  natural  sense  of  rhythm.  And  just  as  one 
may  teach  a  deaf-mute  to  speak  by  means  of  lip-move- 
ments, which  have  no  correspondence,  in  his  mind,  to 
the  idea  of  hearing,  so,  by  accustoming  the  body  to 
regular  symmetrical  movements  under  the  control  of 
eye  and  muscular  senses,  a  feeling  for  musical  rhythm 
may  be  produced  in  an  a-rhythmic  pupil.  For,  as  La 
Rochefoucauld  puts  it:  "We  are  more  disposed  to  in- 
dolence in  our  minds  than  in  our  bodies,  and  good 
physical  habits  conduce  to  good  mental  ones." 

Repeated  "squad"  drill  produces  regularity  of  step 
in  our  soldiers.  If  we  could  train  them  to  co-ordinate 
this  regularity  with  that  demanded  by  musical  measure 
they  would  soon  learn  to  sing  in  time.  In  respect  of 
accentuation,  on  the  other  hand,  military  training  has 
a  bad  effect  on  the  body,  as  on  the  mind.  It  vitiates 
natural  balance  by  concentrating  on  the  left  foot  and 
the  right  arm.  With  its  invariable  "left,  right,"  it 
tends  to  inhibit  the  sense  of  rhythmic  co-ordination. 
If  only  military  instructors  would  train  their  men  to 
start  off  alternately  with  the  left  and  right  foot,  to 
"change  arms"  more  frequently,  to  accentuate  their 
march  to  3,  4,  5,  and  6  time,  in  various  tempi,  and 
sometimes  alternating  the  time-beat,  they  would  see 
how  far  less  mechanical,  and  consequently  less  fatigu- 
ing, marching  would  become,  and  what  far  more  flexible 
and  quick-witted  men  they  would  turn  out.  They 
would  further  demonstrate  that  rhythmic-musical  were 
developed  along  with  rhythmic-physical  capacities,  and 
so  help  to  procure  the  introduction  of  these  preliminary 
exercises  into  our  schools. 

We  should  likewise  enlist  the  support  of  mothers,  if 


Music  Teaching  in  Schools          53 

they  could  only  realise  how  their  daughters,  by  means  of 
these  exercises,  would  lose  their  inveterate  awkward- 
ness and  stiffness,  and  acquire  that  unaffected  grace 
produced  by  harmony  of  movements,  which  is  no  more 
than  complete  self-expression. 

Once  regularity  of  gait  and  correct  accentuation  are 
developed,  it  will  remain  only  to  enlighten  pupils  as  to 
the  relations  between  them  and  the  division  of  time  in 
music  into  equal  parts,  accentuated  according  to  cer- 
tain rules.  The  analogy  will  quickly  establish  itself. 
We  emphatically  recommend  any  method,  tending  to 
the  study  of  rhythm,  by  means  of  exercises  in  cadenced 
marching.  These  could  quite  well  be  taught  in  kinder- 
gartens, independently  of  music,  in  the  form  of  gym- 
nastics. The  child  could  be  trained  in  a  whole  series  of 
combinations  of  steps,  without  being  made  aware  that 
they  were  based  on  combinations  of  musical  time- values. 
When  one  came  later  to  teach  him  the  value  of  notes, 
and  to  recognise  their  formations,  one  would  have 
merely  to  remind  him  of  his  old  marching  exercises  to 
provide  him  with  a  metrical  model  as  natural  as  it  was 
easy  to  follow — just  as  there  are  dancers  to  whom  the 
musical  phrases  of  a  ballet  are  only  recalled  by  think- 
ing of  the  steps  by  which  they  have  learnt  to  represent 
them.  ...  Is  it  generally  realised  that  a  child  who 
can  dance  the  polka  has  plumbed  the  mysteries  of  a 
•f  measure,  consisting  of  two  quavers  followed  by  a 
crochet,  and  that  an  oarsman  has  similarly  mastered 
|  time  composed  of  a  minim  and  a  crochet?  Let  us 
advance  on  empiric  principles,  in  the  light  of  these 
admittedly  healthy  activities.  The  child  delights  in 
all  manner  of  games  in  which  his  body  may  participate. 


54      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

Gratify  this  instinct,  and  apply  it  to  our  scheme  for 
the  education  of  the  future.  There  is  nothing  to  be 
ashamed  of  in  it.  Let  us  be  children  with  children;  it 
will  be  time  enough  to  replace  our  spectacles  when  we 
come  to  discuss  music  with  adult  amateurs. 

Finally,  phrasing  and  shading  must  be  learnt;  and 
this  part  of  the  training  will  produce  positive  enthusi- 
asm, relieving  the  monotony  of  certain  exercises  with 
a  wealth  of  poesy  and  beauty.  Oh,  the  old-school 
nuances  of  musical  interpretation !  The  crescendos,  the 
ffs,  the  pp's  executed  to  order,  without  a  pupil  knowing 
why,  or  feeling  the  slightest  need  for  them ;  when  the 
whole  art  of  phrasing  and  shading  is  so  easy  to  explain, 
so  natural,  so  attractive,  so  susceptible  of  immediate 
response  from  the  child  the  least  versed  in  questions 
of  technique!  It  should  appeal  especially  to  us  Swiss, 
compatriots  of  that  marvellous  theorist,  Mathis  Lussy, x 
who  has  codified  the  laws  of  expression  into  a  unique 
book, 2  a  monument  of  wisdom  and  artistic  penetration ! 
I  do  not  suggest  that  this  book  should  be  placed  in  the 
hands  of  the  children  themselves,  who  could  hardly  be 
expected  to  grasp  its  infinite  subtleties,  but,  in  Heaven's 
name,  let  us  introduce  it  into  the  colleges,  and  set 
every  music  master  to  study  it,  and  assimilate  its 
smallest  details!  They  will  there  learn  how  everything 
in  music  can  be  related  to  fundamental  physiological 
laws;  how  each  nuance,  each  accent  has  its  raison-cTetre; 
how,  finally,  a  melodic  phrase,  with  its  expressive  and 

*We  had  the  misfortune  to  lose  this  man  of  genius  in  1909.  The 
Association  des  Musiciens  Suisses  commissioned  M.  Monod  to  write  a 
study  of  his  work,  and  published  it  in  1912. 

•  Musical  Expression:  London,  Novello  &  Co. 


Music  Teaching  in  Schools          55 

rhythmic  interpretation,  forms  an  organic  entity,  and 
how  intimately  it  is  related  to  its  harmonisation.  They 
will  be  shown  how  melody  is  constructed  on  the  model 
of  the  spoken  word,  and  how,  like  the  latter,  it  can  be 
punctuated  by  commas,  full  stops,  and  new  paragraphs. 
And,  thus  familiarised  with  the  laws  of  musical  prosody, 
so  wonderfully  expounded  by  Mathis  Lussy,  they  will 
assist  this  reformer  in  purging  our  collections  of  national 
songs  of  the  numerous  faults  that  disfigure  them  and 
will  learn  themselves  to  compose  choral  works  and 
ballads  in  which  poesy  and  music  go  hand  in  hand, 
complementing  and  vitalising  each  other. 

Once  they  commence  teaching  their  pupils  the  real 
elements  of  shading  and  phrasing,  they  will  be  astounded 
and  delighted  to  observe  the  interest  they  evoke  and 
the  joy  with  which  they  are  applied.  We  are  too  apt 
to  appeal  to  the  child's  instinct  for  imitation,  to  the 
detriment  of  his  sense  of  analysis  and  his  inventive 
faculties.  In  Pascal's  words,  "It  is  dangerous  to  let 
the  child  see  how  like  an  animal  he  is,  without  also 
showing  him  the  grandeur  and  nobility  that  is  in  him." 
The  child  loves  nothing  so  much  as  to  construct  and 
embellish,  according  to  his  fancy,  things  that  appeal  to 
him.  Similarly,  he  wants  lessons  which  give  scope  for 
individuality.  Once  he  has  learnt  the  primary  rules  of 
shading,  he  will  never  want  to  sing  a  tune  without 
being  allowed  to  embellish  it  with  its  natural  comple- 
ments— rhythmic  and  emotional  expression  and  accen- 
tuation. Reading  will  be  mere  drudgery  to  him.  But 
you  will  have  only  to  say:  "Now  sing  that  with 
expression,"  and  his  eyes  will  gleam,  his  face  light  up 
with  joy.  The  tune  will  at  once  appeal  to  him,  because 


56      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

he  is  to  be  allowed  to  give  something  of  himself  to  it. 
He  will  sing  it  with  all  his  soul,  only  concerned  to  add 
to  its  charm  and  life.  And  when  he  has  come  to  an 
end,  and  you  ask  him, '  'What  mistakes  have  you  made  ? ' ' 
how  shrewdly  he  will  know  and  tell  you  of  the  false 
or  omitted  nuances!  with  what  conviction  he  will  cry, 
"My  rhythm  was  all  wrong;  I  sang  too  loud,  I  forgot 
to  slow  down!"  And  how  he  will  love  to  try  again,  to 
embellish  it,  to  communicate  his  vitality  to  it,  to  per- 
meate it  with  his  spirit !  All  children  feel  a  craving  to 
create,  and  the  teacher  should  lose  no  opportunity  of 
turning  this  disposition  to  account.  He  should  set 
them,  from  their  earliest  lessons,  to  improvise  short 
phrases  of  two  bars,  then  four,  then  eight,  or  to  replace 
a  bar  of  a  melody  by  one  of  their  own  composition.  He 
will  find  them  revelling  in  such  exercises,  and  making 
rapid  progress  in  improvising.  Let  him  further  appoint 
different  pupils  to  judge  their  comrades'  efforts,  and 
he  will  note  that  their  instinct  for  criticism  and  an- 
alysis is  as  strong  as  that  for  creation,  and  that,  with 
practice,  children  can  speedily  acquire  a  really  subtle 
and  discriminating  judgment — assuming,  of  course,  that 
they  are  provided  with  sound  models  on  which  to 
develop  their  taste  and  discernment. 

Finally,  the  choice  of  songs  for  purposes  of  school 
study  is  a  matter  of  no  less  importance.  Apart  from 
folk-songs,  the  interpretation  of  which  should  be  con- 
fined to  Section  II.  (vide  supra},  the  repertoire  of  Sec- 
tion I.  should  contain  more  difficult  classical  pieces,  but 
adapted  to  the  scope  of  children.  We  should  like,  in 
conclusion,  to  recommend  to  educational  authorities  a 
liberal  programme  of  performances  in  public  (which  far 


Music  Teaching  in  Schools          57 

from  disturbing  regular  studies,  provide  a  most  whole- 
some diversion  in  school  life),  open  air  festivities,  and 
walks  to  the  accompaniment  of  singing — by  this  means 
turning  the  lessons  to  practical  use,  and  introducing 
music  into  the  real  life  of  the  school.  .  .  . 

Music  lessons  will  never  be  really  satisfactory  until 
they  result  inevitably  in  giving  the  child  a  genuine 
taste  for  singing,  both  solo  and  choral,  and  for  listening 
to  good  music — the  most  stimulating  and  comforting  of 
the  arts,  the  only  one  that  enables  us  to  express  the 
heart  of  hearts  in  us,  and  to  sense  the  emotions  common 
to  all  creation.  .  .  . 


CHAPTER  III 

"THE    YOUNG    LADY    OF    THE    CONSERVA- 
TOIRE AND  THE  PIANO"   (1905) 

Colleges  of  music  formerly  and  to-day — The  piano,  the  ear, 
and  music — What  does  the  piano  student  learn  outside  of 
technique  and  the  interpretation  of  the  score? — Music  at  home 
and  in  the  concert-room — Advantages  to  piano  teachers  of 
previous  general  musical  education  in  the  pupil — An  appeal 
to  professional  pianists. 


59 


CHAPTER  III 

"THE  YOUNG  LADY  OF  THE  CONSERVATOIRE  AND  THE 
PIANO"  (1905) 

"WHAT  a  glow  there  is  about  you,  Mr.  So-and-So! 
You've  got  some  big  business  up  your  sleeve,  I'll  be 
bound!" 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,  only,  my  daughter  Leonora  has  just 
passed  with  honours  her  pianoforte  exam,  at  the  College 
of  Music.  I  won't  deny  that  I'm  somewhat  elated  by 
the  happy  event.  It's  gratifying  to  feel  that  one's 
daughter  is  such  a  good  musician." 

"You  regard  her  progress  as  a  pianist,  then,  as  proof 
of  her  musical  development?" 

"Well,  naturally." 

"You  are  mistaken,  Mr.  So-and-So.  A  pianoforte 
training  has  not  always  either  the  object  or  the  result 
of  cultivating  musical  capacities.  On  the  contrary,  too 
often  it  does  not  go  beyond  providing  a  useless  musical 
technique  to  persons  who  are  not  musical. 

"Formerly  all  musicians,  without  exception,  were 
versed  in  every  side  of  musical  technique:  to-day  this 
all-round  education  is  only  given  to  composers.  The 
schools  of  music  are  filled  with  young  men  and  women 
possessing  good  fingers,  lungs,  vocal  chords,  and  wrists, 
but  lacking  alike  a  good  ear,  intelligence,  and  'soul.' 
These  young  people  imagine  that  they  have  only  to  learn 

61 


62      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

to  play  an  instrument  to  become  master-musicians; 
and  the  public,  for  the  most  part,  is  incapable  of  distin- 
guishing between  an  artist  and  a  virtuoso.  In  the  old 
days,  the  latter  had  to  be  an  artist ;  to-day  he  is  often  no- 
thing more  than  an  artisan.  Just  as  in  former  times  ca- 
binet-makers and  glass-blowers  were  at  once  creators 
and  workmen,  themselves  devising  the  models  they  exe- 
cuted, while,  nowadays,  they  are  content  to  imitate  the 
old  models,  or  to  execute  the  artistic  conceptions  of 
paid  designers.  There  you  have  an  example  of  artistic 
decline  to  which  too  little  attention  is  given — but  to 
the  matter  in  hand. 

"Three-quarters  of  the  students  who  enter  schools  of 
music  are  not  born  musicians.  Before  embarking  on 
lessons  suitable  for  students  with  good  ear,  exceptional 
sensibilities,  and  fine  taste,  less  accomplished  students 
should  receive  a  preparatory  training  in  ear,  sensibility, 
and  taste.  Without  that  they  can  derive  no  real  benefit 
from  music  lessons — they  will  become  mere  parrots  or 
apes  instead  of  musicians  and  men." 

' '  Do  you  really  believe  that  training  can  make  a  bad 
ear  good?" 

"The  ear  can  most  certainly  be  trained." 
' '  Or  that  it  can  give  a  person  musical  understanding  ?" 
"It  will  develop  such,  if  it  is  susceptible  of  develop- 
ment." 

"That  it  can  create  musical  taste?" 
"It  will  awaken  and  mould  it,  if  the  germ  exists." 
"Aha!  your  reply  satisfies  me  that  your  famous 
special  training  will  have  no  effect  on  persons  devoid 
of  musical  aptitude." 

"The  conventional  system  can't  make  a  musician  of 


"  Young  Lady  of  the  Conservatoire  "  63 

a  deaf  man.  The  trouble  is  that  it  makes  a  pianist  of 
him!  and  therein  lies  the  whole  folly  of  the  business. 
In  amateurs  possessing  the  rudiments  of  taste,  and  a 
moderate  ear,  neither  is  developed,  but  only  fingers. 
Those  without  any  capacity  whatever  are  taught  the 
use  of  the  pedal !  and  all  these  four-handed  creatures 
dare  to  criticise  music  and  musicians  on  the  strength 
of  knowing  the  A  B  C  of  pianoforte  technique.  Ah, 
Mr.  So-and-So,  the  piano  is  the  modern  Golden  Calf!" 

' '  Don't  excite  yourself,  my  good  sir.  You  artists  can 
never  keep  your  tempers." 

"Nor  you  amateurs  your  tempi!" 

"Come,  come!  Let  us  discuss  the  matter  calmly  and 
rationally.  You  tell  me  that  children  should  not  be 
taught  the  piano?" 

"I  didn't  say  that.  I  merely  contend  that  an  ama- 
teur should  learn  music  before  he  touches  the  piano." 

"But  the  piano  is  music!" 

"The  barrel-organ  is  also  music,  but  people  are  not 
taught  it.  However,  we  will  discuss  the  matter  calmly, 
and  rationally,  as  you  propose.  Do  you  know  what  an 
amateur  is?" 

"An  amateur  of  music — derived  from  the  Latin 
amator,  from  the  verb  amare — is,  my  dear  friend,  a 
person  who  loves  music." 

"Very  good.  And  now  tell  me  this,  my  friend.  Do 
you  love  your  wife?" 

"  Do  I—  ?    What  a  question ! " 

"Of  course  you  love  her,  I  know;  she  has  told  me  so 
herself.  .  .  .  And  do  you  know  her?"  . 

"  Do  I—  ?    What  are  you  talking  about  ? ' ' 

' '  One  moment !    You  know  the  colour  of  her  eyes,  her 


64     Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

hair,  her  complexion?  You  know  her  preferences,  her 
tastes,  her  aptitudes?  You  know,  so  to  speak,  your  way 
about  both  her  mind  and  heart?" 

"Of  course  I  do." 

"I  admit  my  question  was  absurd.  You  love  your 
wife  and  you  know  her.  You  love  her  because  you  know 
her,  and  if  you  didn't  know  her  you  wouldn't  love  her. 
Well,  let  me  tell  you,  there  are  amateur  pianists  who 
love  the  piano  without  knowing  anything  of  music,  but 
simply  out  of  a  desire  to  imitate  people  who  love  the 
piano  because  they  know  it.  Now  I  contend  that  one 
can  really  love  and  continue  to  love  someone  or  some- 
thing, music  or  woman  (the  two  things  are  of  the 
same  essence)  only  provided  one  knows  that  someone  or 
something.  And  that,  accordingly,  before  everything 
else,  our  future  amateur  musicians  should  be  brought 
to  know  this  music  that  they  love,  perhaps  instinctively, 
but  which  they  can  never  truly  love  until  they  know 
it  properly." 

"Well,  and  the  piano ?" 

"The  piano  represents  music  in  the  same  way  as  the 
photograph  of  Madame  So-and-So  represents  your  wife. 
The  photograph  recalls  to  you  the  features  of  a  lady 
with  whose  moral  and  intellectual  qualities  you  are 
intimately  acquainted.  The  piano  recalls  to  your  ear 
thoughts  whose  depth,  charm,  and  poetry  you  should 
likewise  be  in  a  position  to  appreciate.  The  basis  of 
the  training  to  be  given  amateurs  should  be  the  study 
not  of  the  mechanical  means  of  expression,  but  of  the 
thoughts  that  are  to  be  expressed.  Once  a  child  can 
sing  correctly,  assimilate  melodies,  analyse  chords  and 
melodic  successions,  distinguish  rhythms,  phrase  infal- 


"  Young  Lady  of  the  Conservatoire  "  65 

libly,  appreciate  forms,  produce  vocal  shadings  and 
accentuations  with  taste — well,  then,  you  may  justi- 
fiably sit  him  down  before  a  piano.  After  four  years 
of  apprenticeship  at  the  instrument,  he'll  know  more 
than  he'd  have  learnt  in  six  years  without  having  first 
studied  aural  training,  and,  what's  more  important, 
he'll  know  it  better." 

"Well,  well,  well!  If  you  insist,  we'll  grant  you  your 
solfdge;  all  the  same,  fingers  are  an  important  element 
in  pianoforte  playing,  and  solfege  alone  won't  make 
them  flexible." 

"Your  point  is  a  sound  one.  The  fingers  of  the 
pianist  of  the  future  will  necessarily  be  submitted  to  a 
special  gymnastic  course  conducive  to  flexibility.  But 
this  course  will  be  independent  of  the  study  of  the  piano, 
and  will  not  be  of  a  specially  musical  character." 

' '  In  that  case,  the  fingers  will  play  incorrectly,  the  mo- 
ment they're  put  to  the  piano,  despite  all  your  solfege." 

"Perhaps  but  the  ear,  as  a  result  of  the  thorough 
training  accorded  it,  will  at  once  correct  the  mistakes 
of  the  fingers,  and  control  the  latter.  Thus,  from  the 
first  lesson,  the  fingers  will  be  subservient  to  musical 
taste,  whereas,  under  the  present  system,  finger  exer- 
cises form  the  taste." 

"The  cart  before  the  horse?" 

"Exactly !  I  take  off  my  hat  to  you.  Not  only  have 
you  come  round  to  my  way  of  thinking,  but  you  take 
the  words  out  of  my  mouth." 

"You  were  speaking  of  piano  lessons  to  commence 
after  four  years  of  solfege.  How  are  you  going  to  con- 
duct these  lessons?" 

"With  a  view  to  the  attainment  of  their  aim. 


66      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

Tell  me,  what  is  your  daughter  Leonora  learning  at 
the  moment,  after — is  it  not? — twelve  years  at  the 
Conservatoire  ? ' ' 

"Eleven  and  a  half  only,  my  friend!  Leonora  is  at 
present  studying  Liszt's  second  Rhapsody,  a  pretty  hard 
piece,  I  can  tell  you!" 

"Splendid!  And  how  long  has  your  daughter  been 
on  the  Rhapsody?" 

"Only  two  months.  But  she's  got  it  at  her  finger- 
ends  at  last." 

' '  Splendid !  And  having  it  at  her  finger-ends,  she  has 
it  in  her  head  as  well,  I  suppose.  She  understands  the 
structure ? ' ' 

"Seeing  that  she  knows  it  by  heart!" 

"She  can  follow  the  modulations?" 

"Of  course!" 

"She  told  you  so?" 

"I  never  asked  her."  , 

"Her  master  asked  her,  I  expect?" 

"No  doubt." 

"Splendid!  And  what  was  Miss  Leonora  playing 
before  the  Rhapsody?" 

"Beethoven's  sonata,  'Les  Adieux.' " 

"Does  she  still  play  it?" 

"Not  exactly.  You  know  these  very  difficult  pieces 
require  the  deuce  of  a  lot  of  keeping  up." 

"But  .    .    .  she  knows  Beethoven?" 

"What  a  question,  such  a  well-known  composer!" 

"I  mean  she  knows  other  works  of  his  besides  that 
sonata?" 

' '  She  has  played  also  the  Concerto  in  E  flat  and  the 
'Ruins  of  Athens.' " 


"Young  Lady  of  the  Conservatoire"  67 

"And  what  about  the  pieces  she  hasn't  played?" 

"If  you  imagine  she  has  time  to  learn  pieces  she  can't 
play!" 

' '  She  could  learn  the  principal  motifs  of  other  famous 
sonatas,  of  the  quartets,  of  the  nine  Symphonies." 

"Well,  I  confess " 

"And  to  come  back  to  the  Concerto,  does  she  know 
that  it  was  written  with  orchestral  accompaniment?" 

' '  Of  course !    It's  written  on  the  score." 

"She  knows  what  an  orchestra  is?" 

"Who  doesn't?" 

"She  can  distinguish  a  bassoon  from  a  clarinet?" 

"I  should  hope  so." 

"An  oboe  from  a  flute?" 

"Pooh!  the  oboes  are  held  vertically,  the  flutes 
horizontally." 

"But  I  was  speaking  of  their  sounds." 

"Oh,  that/  ..." 

"Does  she  know  an  English  horn?" 

4 '  Who  doesn't  ken  John  Peel  ?  '  Oh,  the  sound  of  his 
horn  brought  me  from  my  bed ! ' ' 

' '  I  see.    And  so  an  English  horn  is  just  a  horn  ? " 

"Made  in  England." 

"Delightful!  .  .  .  Now  tell  me,  Mr.  So-and-So,  if 
you'll  forgive  my  indiscretion.  I  take  it  your  daughter, 
in  the  bosom  of  her  family,  of  an  evening,  will  run 
through  the  most  exquisite  passages  of  the  classical  and 
modern  composers?" 

"Not  very  often.  In  the  first  place — to  be  quite 
honest — her  time's  not  all  that  it  should  be.  .  .  . 
Besides,  she  has  so  little  leisure  for  playing.  .  .  . 
She's  always  working  at  her  latest  piece." 


68     Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

"Quite.  And  this  latest  piece,  what  is  her  object  in 
learning  it?" 

"To  train  her  fingers." 

"And  her  object  in  training  her  fingers?" 

"To  be  able  to  play  her  piece." 

"Hm!  and  where  will  she  play  it?" 

"At  her  college  exam." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"Possibly  at  a  students'  concert." 

"What  for?" 

"To  show  the  progress  she's  made,  and  accustom 
herself  to  playing  in  public." 

"Does  she  intend  to  become  a  virtuoso?" 

"Oh  no,  but " 

"Before  whom  will  she  play  at  this  concert?" 

"Before  a  gathering  of  friends." 

"Will  the  press  be  represented?" 

"Naturally." 

"And  the  papers  will  mention  your  daughter?" 

' '  I  should  think  so.   They've  already  cracked  her  up. " 

"They've  mentioned  her  name,  your  name?" 

"They  have  indeed!  And  I  was  really  rather  proud, 
I  can  tell  you.  You  should  have  heard  my  friends  at 
the  cafe!  .  .  .  All,  except  Dr.  Thingummybob,  whose 
daughter  has  never  been  chosen  to  play  at  a  concert. 
He  looked  rather  glum.  .  .  ." 

"Well,  I  congratulate  you.  But  will  you  bear  with 
me  a  little  further?" 

"Go  ahead!" 

"Does  Miss  Leonora  take  part  in  ensemble  playing?" 

"Once  a  week  at  the  College." 

"Not  in  her  home?" 


"  Young  Lady  of  the  Conservatoire  "  69 

"My  dear  sir,  unfortunately,  neither  her  mother  nor 
I  play  a  note." 

' '  But  at  the  College  she  has  her  comrades — her  pianist 
and  violinist  friends?  Possibly  she  has  made  the 
acquaintance  of  a  handsome  young  'cellist?" 

"What  an  idea!" 

"I  only  thought  ...  A  college,  congenial  surround- 
ings, a  sincere  desire  to  make  music,  reading  interesting 
new  works  .  .  .  and  duet-playing  is  so  delightful! 
.  .  .  However !  And,  no  doubt,  your  daughter  studies 
singing?" 

"Of  course!" 

"How  splendid  for  you!  How  you  must  revel  in  the 
exquisite  ballads  of  Schubert,  Schumann,  Faure,  Wolff, 
Cornelius,  Robert  Franz,  Max  Reger,  Grieg,  Sibelius, 
Chausson,  Ropartz,  d'Indy,  Debussy,  de  Breville! 
.  .  .  What  a  treat  for  you!" 

"Hm!  Leonora  doesn't  go  in  for  ballads  so  much. 
The  opera's  more  her  line." 

"Oh!     Does  she  intend  to  make  it  her  career?" 

"Good  Lord,  no!  She  sings  excerpts  from  operas, 
because  they  give  them  to  her  to  sing!" 

"All  the  same,  she  must,  as  a  singer,  be  well  up  in  the 
classical  and  contemporary  masters  of  song?" 

"Not  particularly.  She  knows  a  little  Schubert  and 
Schumann,  I  believe,  .  .  .  the  best  known." 

"But  the  others,  the  numerous  others?" 

"She  hasn't  time." 

"Of  course.  I  was  forgetting.  .  .  .  Another  question. 
When  your  daughter  calls  on  one  of  her  friends,  and  is 
asked  to  try  the  piano,  is  she  able  to  improvise  a  few 
chords?" 


70     Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

"No;  but  she  always  has  a  piece  in  reserve  for  these 
occasions." 

"But  can  she  improvise?  It's  so  useful,  after  finish- 
ing one  piece,  to  be  able  to  lead  up  to  the  next  by  a 
few  modulations." 

"She  doesn't  require  to;  she's  never  asked  for  more 
than  one  piece." 

"But  for  her  own  purposes?" 

"Oh,  she  doesn't  bother  about  leading  up  to  another 
piece  when  she's  by  herself." 

"She  can  accompany  songs,  I  suppose?" 

"She's  tried  her  hand  at  it;  but,  you  know,  singers 
are  so  difficult  to  follow.  .  .  ." 

' '  Can  she  transpose  accompaniments  higher  or  lower 
at  request?" 

"Not  herself.    She  gets  them  written  out  for  her." 

"If  you  recall  a  tune  of  your  youth,  can  she  play  it 
by  ear?" 

"You're  joking!  She's  only  an  amateur,  not  a  real 
musician." 

"Still,  I  suppose  she  can  rattle  off,  for  the  benefit  of 
her  young  brothers  and  sisters,  folk-tunes  which  she 
doesn't  happen  to  possess  in  print?" 

"Oh,  we've  always  the  means  of  buying  them." 

"At  your  family  parties,  she  can  oblige  with  a  little 
dance  music,  I  presume?" 

"Sometimes;  but,  you  know,  we  don't  like  her  to 
play  dance  music.  ...  It  requires  such  a  lot  of 
practice  to  keep  time  properly." 

' '  I  agree,  it  requires  practice.  And  in  twelve  years — 
I  beg  your  pardon,  eleven  and  a  half — it  is  evident  that 
—  But  tell  me  frankly,  do  you  not  sometimes  re- 


"Young  Lady  of  the  Conservatoire'   71 

gret  that  your  daughter  isn't  able  to  play  dance  music, 
and  with  the  right  verve?" 

"I  won't  conceal  it  from  you,  I  do  regret  it." 

"And  the  rest — do  you  regret  that,  too?" 

"The  rest?" 

"Yes,  the  rest :  those  lost  evenings  at  the  fireside  with 
your  daughter  reeling  off  beautiful  melodies  while  her 
mother  sews  and  you  smoke  your  pipe;  those  missing 
accompaniments  from  ear  to  the  tunes  of  your  youth ; 
that  knack,  as  her  hands  wander  over  the  keys,  of 
refreshing  heart  and  ear  by  some  impromptu  strains — 
to  give  form  to  her  thoughts,  her  dreams,  her  little 
joys  and  sorrows?  .  .  .  The  rest?  All  the  other 
things  I  enumerated,  and  which  look  so  easy,  and  which 
your  daughter  can't  do,  though  she  can  execute  so 
admirably  that  difficult  Rhapsody  of  Liszt  that  you 
are  so  fond  of  hearing — and  that,  I'll  bet,  you've  heard 
often  enough." 

"Well,  the  piano  is  in  the  drawing-room,  next  to 
my  study.  .  .  . " 

"That's  nice  for  you,  isn't  it?" 

"No,  it  isn't  nice  for  me,  I  can  tell  you!  And  if  it 
weren't  for  her  concerts  and  the  papers  and  Dr.  Thing- 
ummybob —  But  you're  leading  me  on  to  make 
such  confessions,  .  .  .  you  mocker!" 

"Say,  rather,  comforter.  The  story  of  Miss  Leonora 
is  the  story  of  nearly  every  young  girl  who  spends 
twelve  years  of  her  life — — " 

"Eleven  and  a  half!" 

"Who  spends  eleven  and  a  half  years  of  her  life  in 
practising  scales  to  enable  her  to  play  Liszt's  second 
Rhapsody — which  a  pianola,  without  any  practice, 


72      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

can  play  far  better — and  who,  a  fortnight  after  the 
exam,  or  concert,  won't  be  able  to  play  eight  bars  of  it 
without  breaking  down !  She  devotes  eleven  and  a  half 
years  of  her  life  to  studying  the  piano  without  giving 
a  moment's  thought  to  music,  without  knowing  any- 
thing of  the  great  composers  and  their  styles,  and 
their  works;  without  being  able  to  express  her  own 
thoughts  by  a  few  simple  chords;  without  knowing  how 
to  accompany  or  transpose,  or  play  chamber  music; 
without  even  being  able  to  provide  dance  music  for 
her  friends;  without  giving  her  father  and  mother  a 
little  satisfaction,  which  isn't  just  pride,  .  .  .  for  I'll 
bet  Miss  Leonora  declines  to  play  her  grand  Rhapsody 
in  her  own  family  circle?" 

"Resolutely!" 

"She  declines  because  she's  always  between  two  diffi- 
cult pieces;  one  of  which  she  is  learning,  the  other  for- 
getting; the  result  being  that  she  can  play  only  one  or 
the  other  at  a  given  hour,  a  given  minute.  She  and  her 
numerous  comrades  have  neither  understanding  nor 
love  for  music.  For  proof,  you  have  only  to  wait  till 
they  marry,  when  they  give  it  up  without  a  pang. 
Your  regrets,  Mr.  So-and-So,  which  are  shared  by  all 
fathers,  by  all  real  musicians,  satisfy  me  that  I  am 
right  in  advocating  a  reform  of  our  system  of  teaching 
music.  This  reform  is  simple  and  practicable.  It  ap- 
plies not  only  to  the  piano,  but  to  every  instrument,  and 
to  the  voice.  It  consists  in  including  in  the  curriculum 
practical  exercises  for  the  training  of  the  ear  and  the 
taste,  and  for  the  awakening  of  the  individuality  of  the 
pupil;  in  familiarising  amateurs  with  the  beautiful, 
in  acquainting  them  with  the  styles  of  the  classical 


"  Young  Lady  of  the  Conservatoire  "  73 

masters,  in  enabling  them  to  compare  and  analyse  them; 
in  furnishing  them  with  a  mechanism  adequate  for 
reading  fairly  difficult  pieces  without  mistakes,  and 
with  the  technical  and  aesthetic  equipment  for  interpret- 
ing works  with  feeling,  but  without  sentimentality,  with 
passion,  but  without  hysteria,  with  rhythm,  but  with- 
out show.  Always  provided  that  pupils,  gifted  with 
powers  of  so  high  an  order  as  to  enable  them  to  in- 
terpret pieces  of  extreme  virtuosity,  instinctively  and 
without  the  slightest  sacrifice  of  style,  be  permitted  to 
pursue  their  technical  bent;  but  not,  in  Heaven's 
name,  before  the  moulding  of  their  spirit  and  heart  to 
the  understanding  and  love  of  the  art!  .  .  .  We  as- 
pire by  these  means  to  produce  a  race  of  amateurs  who 
will  attend  concerts  no  longer  out  of  snobbishness,  but 
from  a  yearning  for  beauty,  who  will  appreciate  the 
works  they  hear,  because  they  have  taken  the  trouble 
to  familiarise  themselves  with  their  structure  and  ana- 
lyse their  content.  Pupils  destined  for  an  artistic 
career  will  no  longer  have  their  progress  impeded 
by  the  participation  in  their  studies  of  budding  ama- 
teurs. They  will  strive  incessantly  to  overcome  the 
technical  difficulties  that  are  daily  intensifying;  and 
will  take  up  the  study  of  philosophy,  ethics,  and  aes- 
thetics, indispensable  to  the  artist  of  to-day.  As  to 
those  pianoforte  teachers — and  they  are  many — who, 
victims  of  circumstances,  are  obliged  to  inculcate  the 
technique  of  the  piano  into  young  people  ignorant  of 
the  fundamental  laws  of  music,  they  will  heave  a  sigh 
of  relief  at  finding  themselves  discharged  from  their 
thankless  occupation  as  teachers  of  scales  and  arpeggios 
and  will  be  only  too  happy  and  proud  to  change  their 


74      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

vocation  to  that  of  the  music-teacher  of  old — initiators 
into  the  cult  of  eternal  beauty." 

"I  quite  realise  the  importance  of  this  reform:  I 
appreciate  all  its  advantages.  .  .  .  But  the  applica- 
tion of  your  ideas,  the  programme  to  be  carried  out, 
the  technical  means  of  accomplishing  the  artistic  results 
you  have  in  mind — what  a  complicated,  if  not  utterly 
impracticable,  business!" 

"On  the  contrary,  nothing  will  be  simpler.  We  have 
first  of  all  to  submit  our  scheme  to  the  professional 
musicians  of  our  country ;  to  put  this  question  to  them : 
'Is  it  possible  to  teach  musically  gifted  children  (i)  to 
listen  to  and  to  hear  music ;  (2)  to  read  it ;  (3)  to  phrase 
and  shade  without  merely  imitating  models;  (4)  to 
transpose;  (5)  to  improvise;  (6)  to  learn  melodic  and 
harmonic  laws;  (7)  to  possess  a  general  idea  of  the 
progress  of  music  throughout  the  ages,  to  know  the 
great  composers  and  their  most  important  works,  and 
to  be  able  to  quote  them,  and  from  them ;  and  (8)  finally 
to  understand  and  feel — that  is,  to  love — music?'" 

"There  will  be  nothing  further  to  ask.  If  our  musi- 
cians reply  in  the  affirmative,  the  reform  will  be  accom- 
plished, for  the  means  are  easy  in  the  extreme.  It  is 
simply  a  question  of  teaching  what  wasn't  taught 
before." 

"And  what,  in  your  opinion,  will  be  the  reply  of  the 
musicians  of  our  country?" 

"The  reply  will  be  in  the  affirmative." 

"And  what  will  become  of  children  absolutely  anti- 
pathetic to  music?" 

"Oh,  they'll  have  to  be  eliminated." 

"You  are  an  extremist,  my  friend!     But  having 


"Young  Lady  of  the  Conservatoire"  75 

received  this  reply  in  the  affirmative,  how  will  you  next 
proceed?" 

"We  will  approach  the  adherents  of  the  old  system, 
and  we  will  say  to  them :  'Gentlemen,  you  have  devoted 
time  enough  to  the  musical  development  of  our  people. 
We  recognise  and  thank  you  for  your  perseverance, 
your  zeal,  your  noble  and  artistic  intentions,  but  we 
are  persuaded  that  you  are  working  on  wrong  lines. 
We  want  you  to  make  our  children  musicians,  and  not 
mere  virtuosos.  The  new  methods  are  quite  practicable. 
We  will  answer  for  them,  if  you  will  come  into  line, 
thereby  rendering  the  highest  service  both  to  art  and 
to  your  country.'  .  .  .  And  what  do  you  think  the 
really  intelligent  and  musical  spirits  among  them  will 
reply  to  that?" 

"They  will  reply  in  the  affirmative." 

"And  the  others — those  that  don't?" 

"Oh,  they'll  have  to  be  eliminated." 

"You  are  an  extremist  now,  Mr.  So-and-So!" 


CHAPTER  IV 
THE   INITIATION   INTO   RHYTHM    (1907) 

Ear,  voice,  and  consciousness  of  sound — Body  and  con- 
sciousness of  rhythm — Analysis  of  relations  between  movements 
of  voice  and  those  of  whole  muscular  system — Movements  in 
time  and  space — Necessity  for  developing  vitality  of  muscular 
movements  to  make  music  alive — Gesture  and  rhythmic  reac- 
tions— Birth  of  rhythmic  thought  (rhythmic  feeling) — Poly- 
rhythm  and  polydynamics — Physical  capacity  of  different 
races — Necessity  for  collaboration  of  parents  to  establish  a 
composite  rhythmic  culture. 


77 


To  my  dear  friend 

TV  and      cMaborator' 

1 V  NINA  GORTBR. 

THE  INITIATION  INTO  RHYTHM   (1907) 

To  be  completely  musical,  a  child  should  possess  an 
ensemble  of  physical  and  spiritual  resources  and  capaci- 
ties, comprising,  on  the  one  hand,  ear,  voice,  and  con- 
sciousness of  sound,  and,  on  the  other,  the  whole  body 
(bone,  muscle,  and  nervous  systems),  and  the  conscious- 
ness of  bodily  rhythm. 

The  ear  enables  us  to  perceive  sound  and  rhythm,  and 
to  control  this  perception.  The  voice  provides  the 
means  of  reproducing  sound,  enabling  us  to  realise  the 
idea  the  ear  has  formed  of  a  sound. 

Consciousness  of  sound  is  the  faculty  of  the  mind  and 
whole  being  to  "place,"  without  recourse  either  to  the 
voice  or  to  an  instrument,  any  succession  or  combina- 
tion of  sounds,  and  to  distinguish  any  melody  or  har- 
mony by  comparing  the  sounds  of  which  it  is  composed. 
This  consciousness  is  acquired  after  repeated  experi- 
ences of  both  ear  and  voice. 

By  means  of  movements  of  the  whole  body,  we  may 
equip  ourselves  to  realise  and  perceive  rhythms. 

Consciousness  of  rhythm  is  the  faculty  of  "placing" 
every  succession  and  combination  of  fractions  of  time 
in  all  their  gradations  of  rapidity  and  strength.  This 

79 


8o      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

consciousness  is  acquired  by  means  of  muscular  con- 
tractions and  relaxations  in  every  degree  of  strength 
and  rapidity. 

No  schoolmaster  would  set  a  child  to  draw  some- 
thing with  which  he  was  not  familiar,  and  before  he 
knew  how  to  handle  a  pencil.  Nor  would  he  begin  to 
teach  him  geography  before,  having  learnt  to  walk  and 
gesticulate,  he  had  acquired  an  elementary  sense  of 
space;  nor  direct  him  to  draw  a  map  until  he  could 
not  only  handle  a  pencil  and  trace  lines,  but  had  also 
acquired  both  a  sense  of  space  and  an  idea  of  the  lie  of 
the  country.  No  one  can  exercise  several  faculties  at 
the  same  time  before  he  has  acquired,  however  crudely, 
at  least  one  faculty. 

Consciousness  of  sound  can  only  be  acquired  by  re- 
iterated experiences  of  the  ear  and  voice;  consciousness 
of  rhythm  by  reiterated  experiences  of  movements  of 
the  whole  body.  Since  the  practice  of  music  demands 
the  simultaneous  co-operation  of  ear,  voice,  and  muscu- 
lar system — and  it  is  obviously  impossible,  in  the  early 
stages  of  music  study,  to  train  all  these  musical  media 
at  the  same  time — the  question  arises  as  to  which  of 
them  should  be  attended  to  first. 

The  movements  that  produce  the  voice  in  all  its 
shades  of  pitch  and  loudness  are  of  a  secondary  order, 
depending  on  the  elementary  rhythm  of  breathing.  We 
are  therefore  left  to  choose  between  the  muscular  system 
and  the  ear,  confining  ourselves  to  the  capacity  of  each 
of  these — not  of  forming  sound,  since  this  depends  on 
the  special  muscular  activity  of  breathing,  but  of  exe- 
cuting and  perceiving  rhythms. 

The  muscular  system  perceives  rhythms.    By  means 


The  Initiation  into  Rhythm         81 

of  repeated  daily  exercises,  muscular  memory  may  be 
acquired,  conducing  to  a  clear  and  regular  representa- 
tion of  rhythm. 

The  ear  perceives  rhythms.  By  means  of  repeated 
daily  exercises,  sound  memory  may  be  acquired,  sharp- 
ening and  stimulating  the  critical  faculties.  This  will 
enable  the  student  to  compare  the  perception  of  sound 
rhythms  with  their  representation. 

If,  at  this  stage — working  on  the  principle  that  execu- 
tion should  precede  perception  and  criticism — we  com- 
pare the  functions  of  the  ear  with  those  of  the  muscular 
system,  we  arrive  at  the  conclusion  that  the  first  place 
in  the  order  of  elementary  music  training  should  be 
accorded  the  muscular  system. 

It  may  be  objected  that  the  perception  of  rhythm  by 
a  child  does  not  necessitate  its  execution  on  the  part 
of  the  child  himself,  the  rhythmic  and  metrical  move- 
ments effected  by  an  object  or  by  other  individuals 
being  equally  capable  of  awakening  in  his  body  and 
mind  the  perception  of  those  movements ;  and  that,  on 
the  other  hand,  only  the  memory  of  rhythms  perceived 
outside  of  himself  will  enable  him  to  realise  them  in  his 
own  person.  .  .  .  However  logical  this  argument  may 
sound,  I  adhere  to  my  opinion,  founded  on  the  observa- 
tion that  a  child's  body  possesses  instinctively  the 
essential  element  of  rhythm  which  is  sense  of  time. 
Thus: — (i)  the  beats  of  the  heart,  by  their  regularity, 
convey  a  clear  idea  of  time,  but  they  are  a  matter  of 
unconscious  activity,  independent  of  the  will,  and 
therefore  valueless  for  the  purposes  of  execution  and 
perception  of  rhythm.  (2)  The  action  of  breathing 
provides  a  regular  division  of  time,  and  is  thus  a  model 


82      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

of  measure.  The  respiratory  muscles  being  subject  to 
the  will,  in  however  qualified  a  degree,  we  are  able  to 
operate  them  rhythmically,  that  is  to  say,  to  divide  the 
time  and  accentuate  each  division  by  a  stronger  mus- 
cular tension.  (3)  A  regular  gait  furnishes  us  with  a 
perfect  model  of  measure  and  the  division  of  time  into 
equal  portions. 

Now  the  locomotor  muscles  are  conscious  muscles, 
subject  to  absolute  control  by  the  will.  We  therefore 
find  in  walking  the  natural  starting-point  in  the  child's 
initiation  into  rhythm. 

But  walking  is  only  the  starting-point,  for  the  feet 
and  legs  are  not  the  only  limbs  set  in  motion  by  con- 
scious muscles,  and  so  available  for  the  awakening  and 
development  of  the  consciousness  of  rhythm.  This  con- 
sciousness demands  the  co-operation  of  all  conscious 
muscles,  and  thus  a  training  of  the  whole  body  is  re- 
quired to  create  rhythmic  feeling.  We  may  remark,  in 
passing,  that  herein  lies  the  complete  condemnation  of 
the  present  method  of  musical  tuition,  which  consists 
in  teaching  a  child  an  instrument  before  his  organism 
has  a  clear  and  distinct  consciousness  of  measured  and 
rhythmic  muscular  movements. 

Muscles  were  made  for  movement,  and  rhythm  is 
movement.  It  is  impossible  to  conceive  a  rhythm  with- 
out thinking  of  a  body  in  motion.  To  move,  a  body 
requires  a  quantum  of  space  and  a  quantum  of  time. 
The  beginning  and  end  of  the  movement  determine  the 
amount  of  time  and  space  involved.  Each  depends  on 
the  gravity,  that  is  to  say  (in  relation  to  the  limbs  set 
in  motion  by  the  muscles),  on  the  elasticity  and  muscu- 
lar force  of  the  body. 


The  Initiation  into  Rhythm         83 

If  we  assign  in  advance  the  ratio  between  the  muscu- 
lar energy  to  be  deployed  and  the  quantum  of  space  to 
be  traversed,  we  determine  thereby  also  the  quantum 
of  time. 

If  we  assign  in  advance  the  ratio  between  the  muscu- 
lar force  and  the  quantum  of  time,  we  thereby  deter- 
mine the  quantum  of  space.  In  other  words,  the 
finished  movement  is  the  product  of  the  combination 
of  muscular  energy  and  the  space  and  time  involved 
in  its  formation. 

If  we  assign  in  advance  the  amounts  of  space  and 
time  it  is  indispensable,  in  order  to  effect  a  movement 
in  harmony,  that  we  should  have  mastered  our  bodily 
mechanism:  a  lack  of  control  would  cause  us  either  to 
exceed  the  space  or  curtail  the  time,  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  a  too  long  retention  would  result  in  either 
leaving  a  portion  of  the  space  uncovered  or  in  exceed- 
ing the  time.  Neither  weakness,  stiffness,  nor  inat- 
tention should  be  permitted  to  modify  the  formation 
of  a  movement,  and  a  properly  executed  rhythm  re- 
quires, as  a  preliminary  condition,  complete  mastery  of 
movements  in  relation  to  energy,  space,  and  time. 

To  summarise  the  preceding  observations,  we  may 
establish  the  following  conclusions: — 

1.  Rhythm  is  movement. 

2.  Rhythm  is  essentially  physical. 

3.  Every  movement  involves  time  and  space. 

4.  Musical   consciousness   is   the   result   of   physical 

experience. 

5.  The  perfecting  of  physical  resources  results  in  clarity 

of  perception. 

6.  The  perfecting  of  movements  in  time  assures  con- 

sciousness of  musical  rhythm. 


84      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

7.  The  perfecting  of  movements  in  space  assures  con- 

sciousness of  plastic  rhythm. 

8.  The  perfecting  of  movements  in  time  and  space 

can  only  be  accomplished  by  exercises  in  rhythmic 
movement. 

As  trainers  of  body  and  ear,  we  are  faced  with  two 
important  questions. 

i .  Should  we  exercise  the  limbs  of  a  child  ? 

Certainly  we  should.  Music  requires  finger  exercises, 
and  hygiene  demands  the  training  of  the  rest  of  the 
body,  without  music.  No  harm  is  done  in  training  the 
fingers  of  a  pianist  without  reference  to  sound.  Indeed, 
we  have  found  numerous  people,  of  good  musical  ear, 
so  captivated  by  sound  that  they  lose  all  sense  of  time, 
duration,  and  accentuation,  and  thus  accustom  them- 
selves to  ignore  it  or  treat  it  as  of  secondary  importance. 
(Vide  the  so-called  "d  la  Chopin"  school  of  pianoforte 
playing.)  If  at  the  commencement  of  a  lesson  sound 
is  eliminated,  rhythm  attracts  the  whole  attention  of 
the  pupil.  Rhythm  is  the  basis  of  all  art.  But  in  gym- 
nastics, of  the  hygienic  and  athletic  orders,  the  body 
is  exercised  without  reference  to  rhythm;  and  the 
smattering  of  regularity  and  symmetry  with  which  the 
bodily  movements  of  the  class  are  invested,  to  facili- 
tate the  supervision  of  the  simultaneous  movements  of 
its  members,  serves  neither  to  awaken  nor  to  produce 
rhythmic  consciousness.  To  develop  the  sense  of 
rhythm  in  a  child  it  is  not  enough  to  set  him  to  execute 
regular  and  simultaneous  movements;  he  must  be  ac- 
customed to  movements  of  divers  intensity,  producing 
divisions  of  time  whose  different  durations  are  in  a 
musical  rhythmic  relation. 


The  Initiation  into  Rhythm         85 

2.  Should  limbs  other  than  the  fingers  be  trained 
with  a  view  to  the  appreciation  of  rhythm?  Every 
conscientious  observer  will  reply  with  an  emphatic 
affirmative,  for  he  will  have  noticed  that  defects  in 
musical  rhythmic  expression  are  invariably  results  of 
physical  defects  in  the  musician.  Moreover,  while  the 
most  difficult  exercises  in  complex  movement  are 
achieved  with  the  greatest  ease  by  pupils  endowed  with 
a  sense  of  musical  rhythm,  however  defective  their 
physique,  the  simplest  exercises  present  enormous  diffi- 
culties to  those  who  lack  that  sense,  be  they  never  so 
well  proportioned.  A  person  of  rhythmic  propensities 
always  presents  a  certain  harmony,  an  effect  of  perfect 
corporal  balance;  and  physical  grace  can  only  be  ac- 
quired or  developed  in  children  in  corresponding  degree 
to  their  instinct  for  rhythm. 

It  may  be  noted  that  there  is  an  intimate  connection 
between  rhythm  in  all  its  shades  and  gesture.  A  com- 
plete musician,  to  mark  a  sharp,  vigorous  accentua- 
tion, will  shoot  out  his  clenched  fist;  his  thumb  and 
first  finger  will  unite  to  describe  a  fine,  acute  touch ;  his 
hands  will  sway  apart  to  indicate  an  effect  of  delicacy 
and  softness.  .  .  .  His  body  is  an  involuntary  medi- 
um for  the  expression  of  thought.  But  there  are  in- 
complete musicians  in  whom  this  capacity  for  corporal 
expression  requires  developing  with  as  much  care  as 
would  be  devoted  to  the  exercising  of  weak  fingers  or 
rigid  joints  in  a  piano  student. 

When  a  pupil  at  the  piano  commits  an  error  in 
rhythm,  the  limbs  of  his  teacher  involuntarily  seek  to 
rectify  it,  not  merely  by  beating  the  time  (that  is  a  con- 
scious gesture,  with  a  definite  pedagogic  aim),  but  by  a 


86      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

spontaneous  effort  of  the  whole  body  to  put  the  accent 
in  the  right  place.  Not  merely  one  of  his  limbs,  but  all  his 
limbs  simultaneously,  stiffen,  infusing  energy  into  his 
muscles  and  conveying  to  the  pupil  the  image  of  what 
he  should  have  sensed  in  committing  the  error.  For  he 
himself  should  have  been  guided  by  the  representation 
of  rhythm,  reflected  in  all  the  muscles  of  his  body.  The 
consciousness  of  rhythm  once  attained,  thanks  to  the 
necessary  exercises,  produces  a  constant  reciprocal  in- 
fluence of  the  rhythmic  action  in  its  representation,  and 
vice  versa.  The  teacher,  in  expounding  rhythm  by 
gesture,  transposes  into  movement  the  representation 
of  his  own  consciousness,  and  involuntarily  seeks,  by 
this  manifestation,  to  awaken  its  representation  in  the 
pupil,  in  order  that  the  latter  may  forthwith  transpose 
it  into  the  form  of  movement  appropriate  to  him.  The 
representation  of  rhythm,  the  reflex  of  a  rhythmic  ac- 
tion, is  potential  in  all  our  muscles.  Inversely,  rhyth- 
mic movement  is  the  visible  manifestation  of  rhythmic 
consciousness.  The  one  follows  the  other  in  uninter- 
rupted sequence.  They  are  indissolubly  linked  to- 
gether. 

Observe  the  movements  by  which  a  conductor  of  an 
orchestra,  endowed  with  temperament,  represents  and 
transmits  rhythm.  Does  he  confine  himself  to  move- 
ments of  the  arm  alone  in  seeking  to  convey  to  the 
instrumentalists  the  image  of  the  rhythm  they  are  to 
create?  By  no  means.  His  knees  will  stiffen,  his  foot 
will  press  against  the  platform,  his  back  will  straighten, 
his  finger  and  wrist  movements  harden.  His  whole 
body  will  be  seen  to  co-operate  in  his  representation  of 
the  rhythm :  each  articulation,  each  muscle,  contribut- 


The  Initiation  into  Rhythm         87 

ing  to  render  the  rhythmic  impression  more  intense; 
the  aspect  of  his  whole  person  becoming,  in  short,  the 
reflected  image  of  the  movement  of  the  music,  and  ani- 
mating the  executants — his  own  representation  of  the 
rhythm  being  transmuted  to  them. 

Another  example.  After  my  little  (or  big)  pupils  have 
practised  eurythmics  for  a  certain  time,  I  give  them 
' '  exercises  in  interrupted  marching . ' '  They  will  execute 
a  few  bars  of  a  rhythmic  march,  then  halt  for  a  bar 
(later,  for  several  bars),  in  the  position  of  the  last  exe- 
cuted bar.  The  duration  of  the  interruption,  the  pause, 
must  be  estimated  and  accentuated  only  in  thought; 
it  being  strictly  forbidden  to  count  out  loud,  or  under 
the  breath,  or  to  move  any  limb.  Yet  what  do  I  find? 
Those  who  have  not  yet  attained  confidence  in  the 
faculty  they  are  on  the  way  to  acquire  (that  of  thinking 
in  rhythm)  seek  to  deceive  me  (and  themselves  too, 
perhaps)  in  employing  muscles  other  than  those  of  the 
leg  to  execute  the  rhythm.  I  catch  movements  of  an 
eyelid,  a  nostril,  a  toe,  even  an  ear,  and  I  have  had 
expressly  to  prohibit  the  beating  of  time  with  the 
tongue  (while  scarcely  in  a  position  to  control  it !)  .  .  . 
And  every  musician,  by  experimenting  on  himself,  will 
find  that,  after  counting  one  or  two  bars  mentally,  he 
will  feel  resonating  in  his  whole  organism,  so  to  speak, 
the  echo  of  the  time- value,  and  that,  while  he  appears 
to  be  immobile,  his  muscles  are  invisibly  collaborating 
with  his  mental  process. 

Man  instinctively  feels  rhythmic  vibrations  in  all  his 
conscious  muscles ;  that  is  why  it  behoves  a  teacher  of 
rhythm  to  train  through  and  in  rhythm  the  whole  mus- 
cular system,  so  that  every  muscle  may  contribute  its 


88      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

share  in  awakening,  clarifying,  moulding,  and  perfecting 
rhythmic  consciousness. 

The  training  of  the  physical  will,  or  the  disciplining 
of  the  nerve-centres,  consists  not  only  in  developing 
the  necessary  activity  of  the  muscles,  but  also  in  learn- 
ing to  reduce  these  to  inaction  in  cases  where  their 
intervention  is  not  required.  This  training  has  no 
place  in  the  regular  courses  either  of  music  or  of  gym- 
nastics, yet  it  is  of  the  highest  importance.  Every 
piano-teacher  will  have  noticed  that  pupils,  on  being 
initiated  into  the  use  of  the  pedal,  find  it  much  more 
difficult  to  remove  their  foot  than  to  place  it  there,  and 
more  difficult  to  place  it  on  a  weak  than  on  a  strong 
beat.  Repeated  practice  will  overcome  this  inability 
of  the  foot  to  isolate  itself  from  the  influence  of  the 
hand;  indeed,  this  special  faculty  comes  naturally  to 
gifted  pupils.  But  is  it  wise  to  confide  to  Mother 
Nature  the  tuition  of  the  less  gifted?  And  would  not 
even  born  eurhythmists  arrive  far  earlier  at  their  goal 
if  they  were  subjected  to  muscular  training  before 
attempting  instrumental  studies?  It  is  the  same  with 
students  of  the  violin,  where  bow  hand  is  so  difficult 
to  free  from  the  influence  of  the  left  hand,  and  it  is 
also  much  more  difficult  to  withdraw  the  fingers  from 
the  strings  than  to  place  them  there.  The  explanation 
is  that  a  decrescendo  of  muscular  innervation  is  much 
more  difficult  to  accomplish  than  a  crescendo,  just  as 
the  gradual  acceleration  is  easier  than  the  abatement 
of  a  movement. 

There  is  another  important  reason  why,  for  the 
rhythmic  training  of  man,  it  is  necessary  to  exercise 
all  his  limbs,  and  that  is — that  a  child  is  rarely  born 


The  Initiation  into  Rhythm         89 

polyrhythmic.  To  create  in  him  the  sense  of  simultane- 
ous rhythms,  it  is  indispensable  that  he  should  be  made  to 
execute,  by  means  of  different  limbs,  movements  rep- 
resenting different  durations  of  time.  These  exercises 
will  enable  him  to  subdivide  bars  into  even  shorter 
intervals  of  time.  One  limb,  for  example,  may 
execute  the  quarter-values  of  the  time,  another  the 
eighths,  a  third  the  sixteenths — or,  by  way  of  variation, 
one  the  quarter- values,  another  the  same  in  syncopa- 
tion— and  by  this  means  he  will  attain  the  necessary 
facility  in  dissociating  movements  to  enable  him  to 
practise  and  observe  polyrhythm. 

While  precise  relations  of  time,  space,  and  energy 
determine  the  form  of  the  movement,  rhythm  demands 
different  forms  of  movement  for  different  accentuations 
(in  other  words,  different  degrees  of  muscular  energy). 
Accordingly,  the  study  of  polyrhythm  involves  that  of 
polydynamics. 

Let  us  return  to  the  conductor,  who  will  express  vio- 
lence with  one  hand  and  tenderness  with  the  other, 
and  at  the  same  time  signalises  rhythms  of  different 
durations,  and  we  have  a  perfect  illustration  of  the  com- 
bination of  polyrhythm  with  polydynamics.  It  is  es- 
sential that  the  rhythmician  should  possess  absolute 
freedom  of  limb. 

To  sum  up:  music  is  composed  of  sound  and  move- 
ment. Sound  is  a  form  of  movement  of  a  secondary, 
rhythm  of  a  primary,  order.  Musical  studies  should 
therefore  be  preceded  by  exercises  in  movement.  Every 
limb — first  separately,  then  simultaneously,  finally 
the  whole  body — should  be  set  in  rhythmic  motion; 
the  resulting  formations,  i.e.,  the  relations  between  the 


90      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

energy,  space,  and  time  involved,  being  carefully  col- 
lated and  regulated. 

The  mastery  of  muscular  energy  being  essential  for 
the  perfect  realisation  of  rhythm,  the  muscles  should 
be  subjected  separately  and  simultaneously  to  dynamic 
exercises,  involving  gradations  of  force,  successive 
transitions,  and  sudden  contrasts — likewise  contrasting 
simultaneous  contrasts. 

The  child  should  also  be  trained  to  introduce  inter- 
vals of  time  between  the  movements  to  be  set  to  rhythm 
or  measure,  so  as  to  become  conscious  of  his  capacity 
for  representing  rhythm  and  acquire  the  mental  per- 
ception of  movement.  He  should  then  be  taught  to 
distinguish  the  movement  from  the  sound  in  musical 
rhythms,  and  to  transpose  them  corporally  and  plastic- 
ally. Thereby  his  perceptions  will  be  sharpened,  his 
experience  enlarged,  his  judgment  moulded,  and  his  ear 
habituated  to  discern  rhythmic  values  without  the  aid 
of  his  eyes,  and — once  pitch  is  acquired — he  will  be  able 
to  hear  sound  without  the  aid  of  his  physical  ear. 

By  these  divers  methods  of  forming  rhythmic  con- 
sciousness, the  pupil  will  come  to  appreciate  time- values 
and  their  notation;  his  respiratory  muscles,  fully 
trained,  will  be  entirely  under  his  control,  and  he  will 
be  ready  to  undertake,  without  risk  to  his  voice,  the 
study  of  tonality.  When  the  tonal  sense  in  its  turn 
has  been  formed  by  daily  exercises  of  the  ear  and  voice, 
then  will  be  the  time,  and  not  before,  to  resort  to 
instrumental  studies.  The  pupil,  who  will  have  ac- 
quired a  perfect  confidence  in  his  consciousness  of 
rhythm  and  sound,  with  a  rich  experience  of  forms  of 
movement  and  perfect  mastery  of  a  well-trained  mus- 


The  Initiation  into  Rhythm         91 

cular  system  to  draw  on,  may  henceforth  devote  his 
whole  attention  to  his  instrument,  practice  at  which 
will  have  become  no  longer  a  torture,  but  a  delight. 

I  have  often  noticed,  in  hearing  my  children's  songs 
executed  in  different  countries,  that  the  children  of 
southern  climes  have  a  natural  aptitude  for  the  accom- 
plishment of  supple  and  graceful  movement,  but  lack 
precision  and  force  in  executing  energetic  and  emphatic 
gestures;  while  children  of  northern  countries  possess 
the  faculty  of  effectively  punctuating  rhythms  by 
means  of  gesture,  but  not  that  of  balancing  and  shading 
successions  of  rounded  movements.  We  may  conclude 
from  this  that  the  rhythmic  character  of  the  music  of  a 
country  will  conform  to  the  physical  aptitudes  of  its 
inhabitants,  for,  as  is  well  known,  grace  and  flexibility 
(in  conjunction  with  lack  of  continuous  accentuation) 
are  the  distinctive  features  of  the  spirit  of  "Mediterra- 
nean" music,  while  the  Teutonic  musical  characteristics 
are  vigour  and  force  of  accentuation,  allied  to  a  too 
sudden  and  rapid  opposition  of  forte  and  piano — that  is, 
lack  of  flexibility  in  shading.  I  claim  that  special 
courses  of  training  will  furnish  the  Southern  child  with 
the  faculty  of  accentuation,  the  Northern  with  the 
desired  flexibility,  thus  affecting  positively  deep-lying 
tendencies  on  the  one  hand,  and  negatively  on  the 
other. 

All  these  principles  sound  extremely  simple,  and  it 
is  probably  owing  to  that  simplicity  that  they  are  no- 
where practised.  It  would  seem  (to  adopt  somebody's 
analogy)  that  music  is  regarded  as  a  fortress  that  has 
to  be  assailed  on  all  sides  at  once.  Those  in  possession 
extol  its  magnificence,  splendour,  and  immensity,  they 


92      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

insist  on  the  number  of  wings  and  annexes  that  belong 
to  it,  and  then  are  surprised  to  find  people  fight  shy  of  it, 
though  they  themselves  have  pronounced  it  accessible 
only  to  a  highly  select  few.  And  yet  it  is  open  to 
every  one,  provided  the  proper  equipment  is  secured  in 
advance. 

Undoubtedly  there  are  impediments  to  the  realisa- 
tion of  our  ideals.  One  of  them  is  the  prejudice  of 
parents  on  the  subject  of  the  corporal  education  of 
their  children.  They  manifest  an  extraordinary  jealousy 
on  the  subject,  as  though  they  regarded  physical  culture 
as  their  exclusive  province.  They  raise  no  objection  to 
other  people  filling  their  children's  heads  with  ideas 
quite  foreign  to  their  own,  but  they  will  not  have  their 
bodies  tampered  with,  they  will  not  allow  you  to  give 
them  balance,  to  render  them  vigorous  and  supple,  and 
to  bring  out  their  natural  grace.  .  .  .  "Grace,"  they 
tell  you,  "develops  coquetry,"  but  without  adding 
that  "intellectual  grace"  necessarily  involves  coquetry 
of  the  mind!  .  .  .  "Render  the  mind  flexible — by 
all  means.  But  hands  off  the  body!"  .  .  .  The 
amazing  inconsistency  of  it !  .  .  .  Once  this  prejudice 
has  been  obliterated  from  the  mentalities  of  parents  and 
headmasters  of  schools,  musical  progress  will  begin  to 
be  realised.  The  first  task  of  educational  reformers 
should  be  the  education  of  parents.  And  yet  there 
must  be  many  among  them  who  share  the  ideals  and 
aspirations  of  these  reformers,  and  would  willingly  col- 
laborate with  them  and  dream  the  same  dream  of  the 
future.  .  .  . 

But,  alas,  so  many  men  do  not  dream,  and  are  con- 
tent to  sleep! 


CHAPTER  V 
MUSIC  AND  THE  CHILD  (1912) 

The  fundamental  qualities  of  the  born  musician — Divers 
functions  of  the  ear — Musical  education  from  an  early  age — 
Influence  of  environment — Nuances  of  rhythm — A  -rhythm  and 
its  cure — Education  and  Sensibility — When  should  instru- 
mental lessons  be  commenced? — Study  of  composition — Emo- 
tion and  Thought — Pianoforte  and  Singing  a  school — Child- 
ren should  be  taught  not  only  to  interpret  music,  but,  before 
everything,  to  hear  and  absorb  it — Children's  concerts — 
Influence  of  school  music  lessons  on  musical  progress  of 
society — New  educational  ideas. 


93 


CHAPTER  V 

MUSIC  AND  THE  CHILD  (1912) 

THERE  are  many  more  musical  children  in  the  world 
than  parents  believe.  A  small  child  may  take  no  in- 
terest in  music,  not  care  for  singing,  march  out  of  time 
in  following  a  military  band,  and  absolutely  refuse  to 
take  piano  lessons,  and  yet  be  not  wholly  lacking  in 
musical  feeling.  Musical  aptitudes  are  often  deeply 
latent  in  the  individual,  and,  from  one  cause  or  another, 
may  fail  to  find  the  means  of  manifesting  themselves — 
just  as  certain  springs  flow  underground,  and  are  only 
brought  to  the  surface  after  a  stubborn  pickaxe  has 
opened  up  the  way.  One  of  the  functions  of  education 
should  be  to  develop  the  musical  instinct  of  children. 
But  how  is  this  to  be  awakened  at  an  early  age?  and 
what  are  its  external  signs? 

To  be  a  complete  musician,  one  requires  a  good  ear, 
imagination,  intelligence,  and  temperament — that  is, 
the  faculty  of  experiencing  and  communicating  artistic 
emotion.  As  regards  the  hearing,  we  cannot  do  better 
than  adopt  Lionel  Dauriac's  definition  in  his  Essai 
sur  V esprit  musical,  where  he  describes  a  musical  ear 
as  "a  faculty  of  the  soul."  Certainly  the  mere  recogni- 
tion and  apprehension  of  sounds  does  not  entitle  a 
person  to  claim  the  possession  of  a  good  musical  ear. 
External  aural  sensations  should,  in  addition,  create  an 

95 


96      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

internal  consciousness  and  state  of  emotion.  There  are 
musicians  of  marvellously  trained  ear,  who  do  not  love 
and  respond  emotionally  to  music;  others,  imperfectly 
developed  aurally,  who  are  yet  real  artists,  capable 
both  of  interpreting  and  creating. 

Many  parents  imagine  that  the  mere  possession  of  a 
clear  and  accurate  voice  implies  musical  talent.  This 
is  far  from  being  the  case.  As  everyone  knows,  it  is 
rhythm  that  gives  meaning  and  form  to  juxtapositions 
of  sounds.  A  child  who  can  improvise,  in  a  charming 
voice,  successions  of  notes,  without  order  or  measure, 
may  be  a  far  inferior  musician  to  one  who  has  no  voice 
but  can  improvise  satisfactory  march-rhythms  on  a 
drum. 

It  is  generally  supposed  that  the  mere  distinguishing 
of  the  names  and  relations  of  notes  heard  constitutes  a 
good  ear.  Now  this  is  a  mistake,  for  the  varying  pitch 
of  notes  is  only  one  of  the  qualities  of  sound.  The  ear 
should  be  able  to  distinguish  the  different  degrees  of 
tonal  intensity,  of  dynamics,  of  the  rapidity  or  the 
slowness  of  successions  of  sound,  of  timbre,  of  all  that 
expressive  quality  of  sound  we  designate  as  musical 
colour.  It  is  the  possession  of  this  quality,  in  my 
opinion,  that  augurs  best  for  the  musical  future  of  a 
child.  There  is  no  need  to  despair  of  a  child  of  six 
who  may  find  a  difficulty  in  reproducing  melodies 
vocally  or  on  the  piano,  so  long  as  he  is  capable  of  dis- 
tinguishing melodies,  and  of  responding  to  gradations 
of  sound,  contrasts  of  forte  and  piano,  variations  of 
speed — in  other  words,  to  musical  nuances. 

Parents  often  say:  "It's  no  good  giving  our  child 
music  lessons;  he's  got  no  voice."  Yet,  on  examina- 


<M 

00 
CA 


O 


o 
CO 


Music  and  the  Child  97 

tion,  an  expert  might  find  that  the  child  in  question 
was  very  far  from  having  no  voice,  but  that  he  was 
merely  incapable  of  co-ordinating  his  vocal  system  with 
the  sounds  he  was  asked  to  imitate.  The  fault  may 
lie  with  his  ear,  which  may  be  quite  sound  but  is 
unpractised. 

What  is  involved  in  making  a  mistake  at  the  piano? 
Merely  the  playing  of  notes  not  indicated  in  the  score. 
Yet  musicians  with  a  fine  ear  may — like  Rubenstein — 
constantly  play  wrong  notes ;  and  they  remain  far  better 
musicians  than  the  numerous  pianists  in  whom  ear  and 
temperament  conflict,  although  their  fingers  never  fail 
them.  If  a  child  has  no  intuition  of  the  conventional 
accuracy  of  harmony,  he  will  usually  be  incapable  of 
judging  whether  his  mother  is  playing  right  or  wrong 
chords  on  the  piano.  But  he  should  be  taught  to  appre- 
ciate the  nuances  of  music,  and  to  judge  whether  she  is 
playing  softly,  loudly,  in  treble  or  bass,  quickly  or  slowly, 
near  or  far  from  him,  legato  or  staccato;  and  she  can  show 
him  the  difference  between  a  crescendo  and  a  diminu- 
endo, by  placing  him  behind  a  door  to  be  gently  opened 
or  closed  while  the  music  is  in  progress.  And  when  he 
listens  to  a  military  band,  she  can  point  out  to  him  that 
each  instrument  has  a  different  voice,  that  the  big 
trombone  has  a  deep  intonation  like  papa,  and  that  the 
clarinet  speaks  like  mama,  while  the  flute  squeaks  like 
Aunt  Matilda. 

What  an  obvious  opportunity  is  missed  by  parents, 
who  must  know  how  children  love  stories,  in  not  at- 
tempting to  rouse  their  interest  in  music  by  playing 
little  pieces  of  a  realistic  order,  illustrative  of  a  story 
whose  characters  consist  of  personages  lending  them- 


98      Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

selves  to  musical  treatment,  such  as  galloping  horses, 
little  mice  with  their  short,  quick,  movements,  chiming 
bells,  etc.  I  have  found  children  follow  with  intense 
interest  the  little  descriptive  pieces  of  Schumann,  Rei- 
necke,  Burgmein,  Ingelbrecht,  Deodat  de  Severac, 
Fibich,  and  the  like.  Long  before  he  knows  how  to 
produce  the  sounds  himself,  the  child  may  thus  be 
taught  to  listen  to  music. 

And  this  is  perhaps  the  best  way  in  which  a  mother, 
so  long  as  she  is  careful  not  to  overdo  things — to  stop 
at  the  first  yawn — may  arouse  in  her  child  not  only  an 
interest  in,  but  the  indispensable  love  for  music.  The 
important  thing,  as  one  cannot  repeat  too  often,  is 
that  the  child  should  learn  to  feel  music,  to  absorb  it, 
to  give  his  body  and  soul  to  it;  to  listen  to  it  not  merely 
with  his  ear,  but  with  his  whole  being.  Aural  sensa- 
xions  require  to  be  completed  by  muscular  sensations — 
phenomena  of  a  physiological  order  produced  by  the 
permeating  influence  of  sound  vibrations.  There  are 
persons,  deaf  from  birth,  who  can  yet  appreciate  and 
distinguish  pieces  of  music  of  different  styles,  by  means 
of  sensations  of  a  tactile  nature,  by  the  kinds  of  in- 
ternal resonance,  which,  according  to  the  rhythms  of 
the  music,  vary  in  intensity  and  form.  The  ear  is 
closely  related  to  the  larynx,  and  there  is  undoubtedly 
a  reciprocal  influence  between  the  hearing  and  the 
vocal  system. 

I  have  known  many  young  people  who,  on  hearing  a 
sound,  have  experienced  a  sensation  at  the  back  of  the 
throat.  The  cultivation  of  the  voice  will  help  to  de- 
velop the  ear,  provided,  of  course,  the  pupil  is  made 
aware  of  the  connection  between  the  sounds  he  hears 


Music  and  the  Child  99 

and  the  resulting  pressure  in  the  larynx.  The  mere 
thinking  of  a  tune  arouses  in  the  throat  the  muscular 
movements  necessary  for  its  vocal  emission.  It  is  there- 
fore desirable,  in  order  to  develop  the  child's  ear,  to 
cultivate  also  his  voice. 

Environment  is  another  considerable  influence.  We 
know  how  quickly  children  can  pick  up  accents.  I 
knew  an  English  child  in  London,  who  spoke  both 
French  and  English  with  a  Vaudois  accent,  his  nurse 
having  come  from  Vaudois.  A  governess  with  a  harsh 
voice  may  have  a  very  bad  influence  on  the  child's  ear. 
One  cannot  be  too  careful  in  seeing  that,  from  the 
tenderest  age,  the  child  hears  only  good  music.  "A 
man's  education  commences  at  his  birth,"  as  Rousseau 
observed.  "Earliest  habits  are  the  strongest,"  wrote 
Fenelon.  Rollin  relates  that  Roman  children,  from 
their  birth,  were  disciplined  in  the  purity  of  their 
mother  tongue.  As  Montaigne  expressed  it,  "Our 
worst  vices  date  from  our  infancy,  and  our  strongest 
influence  throughout  life  is  our  nurse." 

In  his  interesting  book  entitled,  L'Education  mu- 
sicale,1  Albert  Lavignac  asserts  his  conviction  that 
"many  children  fail  to  become  musical  through  their 
parents  allowing  their  musical  instincts  to  die  of  neg- 
lect. A  father  who  desired  his  daughter  to  become  a 
dancer  would  carefully  watch  from  her  first  steps  to 
see  that  her  legs  were  straight.  Similarly  we  should  be 
on  the  look-out  for  deformities  or  deficiencies  in  the 
aural  system." 

It  would  be  so  easy  to  devote  a  few  minutes  a  day  to 
setting  the  child  to  imitate  a  note  played  on  the  piano, 

1  Published  by  Delagrave,  15  Rue  Soufflot,  Paris. 


ioo    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

or  to  sound  the  A  on  a  pitch-pipe  or  a  tuning-fork,  and 
ask  him  to  find  the  note  of  the  same  sound  on  the  piano. 
There  are  numerous  similar  experiments  to  which  one 
can  and  should  subject  children  of  an  early  age.  We 
cannot  repeat  too  often  that  musical  instinct  does  not 
always  emerge  of  itself,  but  requires  to  be  brought  out 
by  a  training  in  association  of  ideas.  Twenty  years 
ago,  I  wrote  some  little  songs,  and  set  children  to  punc- 
tuate them  with  bodily  movements.  I  frequently 
noticed  that  children  who  did  not  care  for  music,  and 
detested  singing  came  to  love  the  songs,  through  love 
of  the  movements.  The  two  essential  elements  in  music 
are  rhythm  and  sound.  Often  a  taste  for  rhythmic 
movement  will  lead  a  child,  possessing  only  slight  audi- 
tive faculties,  to  appreciate  music. 

Sensibility  is  closely  allied  to  sensation.  To  be  a 
sensitive  musician,  it  is  necessary  to  appreciate  the 
nuances,  not  only  of  pitch,  but  of  the  dynamic  energy 
and  the  varying  rapidity  of  the  movements.  These 
nuances  must  be  appreciated  not  only  by  the  ear  but 
also  by  the  muscular  sense. 

Berlioz  devotes  an  interesting  chapter  to  the  need  for 
studying  rhythm  as  part  of  one's  musical  education. 
He  was  preaching  in  the  wilderness — more's  the  pity! 
The  study  of  rhythm  conduces  to  develop  not  only  the 
instincts  for  time,  symmetry,  and  balance,  but  also — 
thanks  to  the  training  of  the  nervous  system  involved — 
the  sensibilities.  However  gifted  a  child  may  be,  in 
respect  of  his  aural  faculties,  he  will  only  become  a 
good  musician  if  he  possesses  temperament.  In  the 
words  of  the  proverb,  "We  may  be  armed  at  all  points 


Music  and  the  Child 

like  a  battle-ship,  but  we  cannot  progress  witho 
boiler." 

What  makes  music  expressive?  What  gives  life  to 
successions  of  musical  sounds?  Movement,  rhythm. 
The  nuances  of  rhythm  are  perceptible  simultaneously 
by  the  aural  and  muscular  senses.  In  the  conventional 
music  lesson  an  attempt  is  made,  via  the  memory,  to 
give  the  child  a  feeling  for  movement ;  never  an  under- 
standing of  movement.  This  latter  should  be  inculcated 
by  observation  and  exercise  of  the  instinct  for  compari- 
son. A  feeling  for  movement  can  only  be  acquired  (if 
it  is  not  possessed  instinctively),  by  means  of  physical 
exercises.  How  many  people  notice  the  ungainly  move- 
ments of  their  friends,  while  they  themselves  are  unable 
to  move  gracefully — though  they  are  quite  unaware  of 
the  fact!  It  is  not  that  their  muscles  are  necessa- 
rily intractable ;  frequently  their  nervous  system  is  dis- 
ordered. The  nervous  system  is  an  accumulator  of 
energy  that  can  be  trained  to  expend  and  recuperate 
its  potentialities,  on  normal  lines,  and  thereby  assure 
the  flexibility  and  force  necessary  for  musical  purposes. 

A-rhythm  is  a  malady  usually  caused  by  the  inability 
of  a  man  to  control  himself,  from  a  predominance  of 
intellect  over  nervous  functioning.  "Will  not  followed 
by  execution  is  useless.  Will  is  not  enough ;  power  is  the 
essential."  In  Ribot's  phrase,  "The  aim  of  education 
is  to  transmute  the  conscious  into  the  unconscious,  and 
to  establish  harmony  between  these  two  states."  The 
senses  are  not  adequately  provided  for  in  our  schools; 
that  is  why  so  few  of  our  people  are  artistic.  Art  is 
not  a  domain  accessible  only  to  an  elite.  "It  is  within 
reach  of  all  those  who  are  capable  of  co-ordinating 


102    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

their  senses,  by  reference  to  an  ideal  of  beauty  and 
harmony."1 

Georges  Delbruck  most  rightly  insists  on  the  vital- 
ising effect  of  training  the  senses,  and  on  its  influence 
on  the  development  of  artistic  feeling,  temperament, 
and  individuality.  Were  this  training  provided  by  our 
schools,  our  musical  standard  would,  in  a  very  few 
years,  be  considerably  elevated.  Under  present  con- 
ditions, children  can  learn  to  love  and  understand  music 
only  outside  of  school  hours.  The  method  of  teaching 
it  leaves,  in  my  opinion,  much  to  be  desired. 

Parents  are  apt  to  confuse  music  with  the  piano. 
One  is  only  a  real  musician  if  one  plays  the  piano !  Ask 
a  person  if  he  is  musical,  and  he  will  often  reply  in 
embarrassment:  "I  wish  I  were.  If  only  my  parents 
had  made  me  learn  the  piano !  But  I  love  music,  and 
never  miss  a  concert!"  And  yet  these  persons  may  be 
far  better  musicians  than  many  reputed  pianists;2  for, 
while  some  of  these  may  be  consummate  artists,  there 
are  others  who  do  not  really  care  for,  or  who  care  for 
only  their  own  music:  who,  at  a  concert,  can  appreciate 
only  "stunts,"  have  no  discrimination  for  style  or  con- 
struction, and  are  neither  stirred  nor  interested  by  the 
most  moving  works.  If  the  training  of  their  sensibili- 
ties had  been  undertaken  before  they  commenced  their 
pianoforte  studies,  their  appreciation,  taste,  and  tem- 
perament would  probably  have  been  far  more  devel- 

1  Georges  Delbruck:  "L'e'ducation  de  la  de'mocratie"  (La  Renaissance 
Contemporaine,  10  Rue  Oudinot,  Paris). 

3  Vide  Chapter  III,  "The  young  lady  of  the  Conservatoire  and  the 
Piano,"  supra,  pp.  61,  et  seq. 


Music  and  the  Child  103 

oped.  Similarly,  if  young  men  or  women,  after  study- 
ing the  piano  without  appreciable  result,  were  to  leave 
it  alone  for  a  time,  and  cultivate  general  musical 
capacities,  they  would  probably  acquire  the  incentive 
to  continue  their  pianoforte  studies  with  advantage. 
But  the  dear  mammas,  with  their  naive  candour,  are 
convinced  that  musical  development  depends  exclu- 
sively on  learning  the  piano.  What  a  mistake !  Piano- 
forte lessons,  unless  preceded  by  training  of  the  ear 
and  by  rhythmic  movement,  frequently  damage  the 
aural  and  rhythmic  faculties.  The  sense  of  touch  de- 
velops, to  the  detriment  of  the  hearing.  The  following 
experiment  was  made  by  a  friend  of  mine,  Director  of 
a  conservatoire  in  a  highly  musical  city.  Twelve  child- 
ren of  the  same  age,  never  having  studied  music,  and 
selected  from  a  large  number,  as  presenting  equal  and 
average  musical  qualifications  and  similar  hearing 
faculties,  were  divided  into  two  groups  of  six.  One  of 
these  groups  confined  itself  to  studying  solfege,  the 
other  commenced  pianoforte  lessons.  After  a  year  an 
examination  was  held,  which  established  the  fact  that 
the  faculty  of  distinguishing  sounds  had  sensibly  de- 
teriorated in  the  second  group.  The  solfege  students 
were  then  initiated  into  the  study  of  the  piano.  After 
a  single  year's  work,  they  had  overtaken  their  comrades, 
who  had  by  then  devoted  two  years  to  it.  This  experi- 
ment proves  that  the  study  of  solfege,  prior  to  com- 
mencing pianoforte  lessons,  is  not  a  waste  of  time  for 
the  pupil.  Quite  the  contrary. 

It  is  nothing  less  than  lunacy  to  set  a  child  to  study 
an  instrument  before  he  has  been  trained  to  appreciate 


104    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

rhythm  and  distinguish  sounds.  Undoubtedly  there 
are  "infant  prodigies"  to  whom  this  generalisation  is 
not  applicable.  But,  while  these  may  be  permitted  to 
strum  and  improvise  ad  libitum,  it  is  highly  inadvisable 
to  give  them  pieces  to  learn.  Too  often,  the  triple 
labours  of  finger  exercises,  reading,  and  understanding 
music  produce  a  nervous  fatigue  that  persists  through- 
out their  lives. 

And  what  anomalies  in  pianoforte  lessons  proper! 
Unfortunate  girls,  without  a  grain  of  music  in  them, 
will  practise  three  or  four  hours  a  day  for  six  to  twelve 
years  to  achieve  a  certain  finger  virtuosity  that  is 
kept  up  only  until  their  marriage,  after  which  their 
fingers  rapidly  resume  their  pristine  stiffness  and  in- 
flexibility. Lionel  Dauriac  has  well  said  that  "marriage 
extinguishes  the  accomplishments  of  three-quarters  of 
our  daughters.  Once  they  no  longer  have  time  to 
devote  five  or  six  hours  a  day  to  martyrdom  at  the 
piano,  they  renounce  music  and  close  their  pianos.  And 
they  would  close  their  understanding  of  music  as  well, 
if  their  masters  had  not  forgotten  ever  to  open  it!" 

As  for  composition,  the  pupils  of  most  of  our  col- 
leges of  music  are  taught  the  external  forms  of  musical 
expression  before  they  have  experienced  any  feeling 
worthy  of  expression ;  they  are  taught  harmonies  before 
they  are  capable  of  hearing  them  inwardly;  they  are 
shown  how  to  write  counterpoint  in  two  parts  before 
they  are  sufficiently  developed  to  compose  a  single 
melody  at  all  agreeable  to  the  ear.  Most  teachers  of 
composition  will  bear  me  out  when  I  assert  that  very 
few  of  their  pupils,  before  embarking  on  their  courses, 
have  undergone  this  preliminary  training  in  regulating 


Music  and  the  Child  105 

excesses  and  vagaries  of  temperament,  rousing  it  when 
inactive,  submitting  it  to  analysis  when  it  tends  to 
immoderation,  detaching  it  therefrom  as  a  curb  to 
introspection.  Patient  and  persistent  practice  in  coun- 
terpoint is  indispensable  to  a  composer,  forming  the 
basis  of  his  musical  education;  but  it  should  not  be 
undertaken  before  he  is  capable  of  assimilating  its 
substance — that  is,  before  his  spirit  has  been  saturated 
in  melody,  his  natural  rhythm  has  found  a  medium  of 
expression,  and  music  has  become  a  part  of  him — his 
whole  organism  responding  in  unison  with  the  impres- 
sions and  emotions  that  assail  it. 

It  is  only  by  experience,  be  it  remembered,  that  the 
inner  ear  can  be  formed  and  trained.  No  training  can 
be  undertaken  before  some  sort  of  control  has  been 
established.  In  studying  drawing,  whether  landscape 
or  portrait,  the  student  must  be  brought  into  immediate 
contact  with  the  object  he  is  to  reproduce.  The  same 
applies  to  music.  The  aural  sensations  conveyed  by 
the  instrument  serve  both  to  indicate  mistakes  and  to 
suggest  the  means  of  rectifying  them.  Professors  of 
harmony,  who  oblige  their  pupils  of  inferior  hearing 
capacity  to  dispense  with  the  piano,  thereby  destroy 
their  instinct  for  comparison,  and  make  of  them  mere 
mathematicians,  intellectuals,  who  become  slaves  of 
automatic  thought  and  construction,  and  whose  in- 
spiration, dependent  on  the  nervous  influx  produced 
by  sound-sensations,  gradually  dies  out.  The  fact  of 
the  matter,  as  we  see  it,  is  this:  Musical  thought  is 
the  result  of  a  state  of  emotion,  and  a  musical  "score" 
may  record  this  emotion.  But  its  expression  requires 
from  time  to  time  to  be  controlled  by  sensations.  And 


io6    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

it  is  impossible,  in  an  art  so  sensuous  as  music,  that  the 
memory  of  harmonies  can  as  effectively  recall  the 
original  emotions  as  the  actual  experience  of  the  aural 
sensations.  In  the  same  way,  a  painter,  imagining  a 
landscape  or  portrait,  and  proceeding  to  depict  it  with- 
out a  model,  is  far  more  liable  to  lose  touch  with  Nature 
than  he  who  pictorially  expresses  his  emotion  while 
in  immediate  contact  with  Nature  or  a  human  physio- 
gnomy. Did  not  Courbet  declare  that,  before  painting, 
it  was  necessary  to  teach  the  eye  to  observe  Nature? 
What  a  pity  that  tuition  in  the  colleges  of  music  the 
world  over  tends  always  to  produce  virtuosos  instead 
of  good  amateurs!  And  what  a  happy  idea  it  was  of 
M.  Fernand  Bartholini,  founder  of  the  Conservatoire 
of  Geneva,  to  devote  that  establishment  exclusively  to 
the  education  of  amateurs,  in  order  to  raise  the  standard 
of  the  public  and  spread  the  love  and  appreciation  of 
music  in  home  and  concert-hall !  If  the  child's  musical 
education  followed  the  dictates  of  common  sense,  it 
would  no  longer  be  necessary  for  composers  to  record 
on  paper  all  the  nuances  to  be  followed  in  execution. 
The  pianist  would  shade  and  phrase  the  music  without 
the  need  for  indications.  Poets  do  not  denote  the  man- 
ner in  which  their  verses  should  be  shaded,  and  music 
is  only  a  language.  The  laws  of  musical  expression 
originate  in  the  human  organism,  born  of  the  observa- 
tion of  the  natural  course  of  our  physiological  life. 
Does  this  not  point  to  the  necessity  for  "musicalising" 
the  student  generally  before  confining  him  to  instru- 
mental studies?  So  musicalised,  the  student  will  make 
far  more  rapid  progress  at  his  instrument.  Can  we  not 
wait  till  a  child  is  seven  or  eight  before  attempting  to 


Music  and  the  Child  107 

teach  him  the  piano  or  violin?  In  that  case  we  might 
commence  his  musical  training,  on  simple  and  natural 
lines,  from  the  age  of  five  or  six. 

Far  be  it  from  me  to  set  myself  against  the  piano 
and  its  tuition !  I  hold  that  the  piano  is  the  most  com- 
plete of  all  instruments,  as  well  as  the  most  useful, 
since  it  gives  an  idea  of  harmony,  of  polyphony,  and 
even  of  orchestral  tone.  But  pianoforte  teachers  will 
themselves  agree  with  me  that  it  is  too  much  to  expect 
them  to  teach  simultaneously  the  technique  of  the  in- 
strument and  the  first  elements  of  music.1  Parents 
should  therefore  refuse  to  entrust  their  children  to 
them  until  they  have  first  taken  a  course  in  elementary 
music.  And  this  course,  tending  by  human  means  to 
instil  a  love  for  music,  and  at  the  same  time  to  bring 
its  pursuit  within  reach,  should  be  provided  by  our 
schools. 

How  are  we  to  convince  those  who  administer  our 
national  schools — and  when  will  parents  demand  of 
them — that  music  should  form  an  organic  part  of 
school  life?  Singing  at  school  should  be  a  form  of  ex- 
ultation, as  well  as  a  means  of  collective  discipline, 
for,  as  Guizot  affirmed,  "music  cultivates  the  soul 
and  thus  forms  part  of  the  education  of  a  people." 
And  Luther  wrote:  "One  cannot  doubt  but  that 
music  contains  the  germ  of  all  the  virtues,  and  I  can 
only  compare  with  sticks  or  stones  those  whom  it 
leaves  cold.  Our  youth  should  be  reared  in  the  con- 

1  This  point  of  view  has  already  been  expressed;  but  one  must  not  be 
afraid  of  repetitions  where  it  is  a  case  of  expounding  an  idea  that  is 
seldom  practised,  and  on  the  practice  of  which,  nevertheless,  depends 
any  real  reform  in  musical  education. 


io8    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

stant  practice  of  this  divine  art."     And  Shakespeare 
exclaimed : 

The  man  that  hath  no  music  in  himself, 
Nor  is  not  moved  with  concord  of  sweet  sounds, 
Is  fit  for  treasons,  stratagems,  and  spoils; 
The  motions  of  his  spirit  are  dull  as  night, 
And  his  affections  dark  as  Erebus : 
Let  no  such  man  be  trusted ! 

Our  schools  do  not  give  music  sufficient  prominence 
or  provide  adequate  time  for  practice.  Those  who 
suggest  that  a  short  daily  singing  lesson  be  included  in 
the  curriculum,  are  met  with  the  emphatic  reply: 
' '  Out  of  the  question !  Every  master  of  a  special  sub- 
ject— mathematics,  geography,  languages — is  clam- 
ouring for  extra  time.  ...  If  one  submitted  to  all 
their  claims,  twelve  hours  a  day  would  not  suffice  to 
include  all  the  branches  of  learning."  On  the  surface 
this  reasoning  appears  sound,  but  it  is  based  on  a  false 
assumption.  Actually,  music,  like  gymnastics,  is  pri- 
marily not  a  branch  of  learning,  but  a  branch  of  educa- 
tion.1 The  school,  before  everything  else,  should  aim 
at  moulding  the  physical  and  psychic  personality  of 
the  child;  at  preparing  him  for  life.  If  we  postponed 
the  study  of  Roman  history  till  we  had  reached  20, 
our  general  development  would  not  be  affected.  But 
to  commence  our  gymnastic  exercises  and  music  prac- 
tice at  an  adult  age  would  be  to  lose  most  of  the  benefits 
they  should  provide.  Gymnastics  mean  health ;  music 

*A  number  of  headmasters  oppose  any  reform  in  singing-lessons 
because  they  hold  singing  to  be  a  secondary  branch.  This  fallacy 
should  be  strenuously  combated. 


Music  and  the  Child  109 

means  harmony  and  joy.  Each  of  them  provides  a  refuge 
and  a  reaction  from  overwork.  To  make  students  sing 
daily,  if  only  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  would  be  analo- 
gous to  setting  them  every  day,  between  each  lesson 
even,  a  few  physical  exercises.  The  singing  of  ballads 
and  songs  would  thus  become  a  natural  practice  with 
schoolchildren,  while  singing  and  music  lessons  formed 
part  of  the  school  curriculum.  These  should  be  devoted 
to  the  study  of  musical  science,  and  should  be  in  pro- 
portion to  the  other  branches  of  learning.  They  should 
inculcate  a  knowledge  not  of  singing,  but  of  music 
and  how  to  listen  to  it. 

There  is  something  profoundly  ludicrous  in  the  fact 
that,  while  musical  instinct  is  based  on  the  experience 
of  the  ear,  a  child  is  taught  exclusively  to  play  and 
sing,  never  to  hear  and  listen.  How  strange  that  a 
master  should  never  think  of  saying,  "Now  keep  quiet 
and  listen  for  a  minute;  I  am  going  to  play  you  a  min- 
uet of  Haydn's  or  a  rondo  by  Clementi  and  you  shall 
tell  me  what  you  think  of  it."  To  my  mind,  musical 
education  should  be  entirely  based  on  hearing,  or,  at 
any  rate,  on  the  perception  of  musical  phenomena :  the 
ear  gradually  accustoming  itself  to  grasp  the  relations 
between  notes,  keys,  and  chords,  and  the  whole  body, 
by  means  of  special  exercises,  initiating  itself  into 
the  appreciation  of  rhythmic,  dynamic,  and  agogic 
nuances  of  music.  Think  of  the  poor  mites  driven 
on  to  the  platform  the  moment  they  can  play  a  little 
berceuse,  to  show  off  their  finger  training  before  an 
audience  of  parents,  and  even,  if  you  please,  musical 
critics!  It  does  not  occur  to  anybody  that  it  is  these 


no    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

very  children  who  ought  to  be  listening  to  music !  Con- 
certs for  children,  such  as  are  held  in  Germany  and 
England,  are  unknown  in  Switzerland ;  but  at  least  our 
teachers  might  make  use  of  the  lessons  themselves  for 
providing  their  pupils  with  the  pleasure  of  hearing 
good  music,  combined  with  the  opportunity  of  forming 
tastes  and  developing  critical  faculties.  One  of  the 
advantages  of  singing  is  that  it  enables  the  child  to 
share  with  his  parents  the  benefits  of  school  training. 
Every  song  a  child  brings  with  him  from  school  en- 
riches, rejuvenates,  ennobles,  elevates,  brightens,  unites, 
and  vitalises  the  family  life.  Just  as  the  circle  formed 
by  a  pebble  dropped  into  water  widens  and  spreads  by 
the  elastic  action  of  rhythm ;  so  the  folk-song  introduced 
by  the  child  into  his  family  circle,  extends  its  influence, 
breaking  through  the  portals  of  the  home,  and  poten- 
tially refining  a  whole  district  with  the  joy  of  its  rhythm 
and  the  lesson  of  its  poesy. 

A  child  who  forms  a  taste  for  singing  and  good  music 
will  retain  it  all  his  life.  Our  male  choirs  for  the  most 
part  confine  themselves  to  an  inartistic  repertoire:  too 
many  of  our  soldiers  are  content  with  comic  songs :  the 
men  in  our  mixed  choral  societies  have  great  difficulty 
in  reading  music :  the  singing  in  certain  churches  is  de- 
plorably bad :  the  cantor  is  out  of  touch  with  the  organ 
— the  female  voices  with  the  cantor,  the  male  voices 
with  the  female — and  the  organ,  obliged  to  wait  at  the 
end  of  a  verse  for  the  men  to  catch  it  up,  in  spite  of  all 
its  anxiety  to  lead  the  singing,  begins  the  new  verse  itself 
behind  the  rest.  Our  musicians  are  reduced  to  lament- 
ing that  our  people  have  not  the  instinct  for  music; 
they  will  go  to  a  concert  only  to  hear  a  popular  singer's 


Music  and  the  Child  in 

"top  notes,"  never  to  an  organ  recital,  or  to  hear 
chamber  music.  .  .  .  And  yet  Herbert  Spencer,  the 
pioneer  psychologist  in  education,  who,  in  1849,  com- 
plained that  English  girls  received  no  corporal  training 
in  their  schools,  achieved  such  wonders  by  his  influence 
that  those  same  girls,  twenty  years  later,  had  become 
the  premier  sportswomen  of  the  world !  And  he  could 
write  in  1860  that  a  scientific  education  might  train 
chidren  not  only  to  appreciate  art,  but  to  feel  the  need 
for  it,  and  that  it  was  capable  in  fifty  years  of  revolu- 
tionising the  mentality  of  a  whole  people ! 

Undoubtedly  a  time  will  come  when  the  teaching  of 
music  will  form  an  organic  part  of  the  life  of  the  school. 
Once  the  idea  is  comprehended,  its  application  will 
remain  only  a  matter  of  days.  And  will  not  the  day 
when  all  countries  lay  down  their  arms  provide  an 
occasion  for  establishing  in  Geneva — at  the  Rousseau 
Institute,  for  example — a  centre  of  educational  experi- 
ments from  which  every  country  may  derive  benefit? 
Progress  is  in  the  air,  new  ideas  fly  from  country  to 
country.  M.  Ed.  Claparede  is  inaugurating  an  ingen- 
ious system  at  once  natural  and  scientific;  schools  on 
new  lines  are  being  founded  and  developed  in  all  parts 
of  Switzerland.  Dr.  Rollier,  Dr.  Cramer,  and  many 
others,  are  making  a  success  of  the  "sun  cure."  The 
day  is  approaching,  I  am  convinced,  when  the  music 
cure  will  attain  recognition.  On  that  day  our  children 
will  have  acquired  a  new  vital  impulse.  If  our  grand- 
parents had  received  the  musical  education  I  am  advo- 
cating, we  ourselves  would  better  love  and  appreciate 
music.  Let  us  not  deny  our  descendants  these  added 
musical  faculties,  this  more  complete  artistic  joy! 


ii2    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

Through  innumerable  centuries  men  march  in  file  before 
time,  and  the  burden  of  life  is  passed  from  hand  to 
hand,  from  generation  to  generation;  and  the  will  of 
each  man  may  decide  whether  that  burden  shall  become 
lighter  or  heavier,  and  it  is  the  duty  of  each  one  of  us 
to  see  that  it  becomes  lighter.  When  our  mothers 
realise  the  part  they  play,  voluntarily  or  involuntarily, 
in  the  evolution  of  humanity,  they  will  grasp  the  needs 
of  education  and  help  to  emancipate  our  children  from 
the  conventions  that  restrict  their  intellectual  and 
physical  development. 

Parents  should  never  lose  sight  of  the  fact  that  our 
bodies  and  souls  are  the  product  of  fabulous  efforts  of 
development  and  progress  through  thousands  of  cen- 
turies, and  that  the  future  depends  on  us,  as  we  depend 
on  the  past.  It  is  their  duty  to  care  for  the  humanity 
of  to-morrow,  to  prepare  the  way  for  future  progress, 
and  to  assure  for  their  descendants  nobler  instincts, 
more  elevated  aspirations,  and  a  completer  happiness: 
there  is  no  higher  duty  than  to  sow  the  good  seed  and 
prepare  the  harvest  of  joy  for  others. 


CHAPTER  VI 

RHYTHMIC  MOVEMENT,  SOLFEGE,  AND 
IMPROVISATION  (1914) 

Sound,  rhythm,  and  dynamics — Harmony  of  imaginative 
and  practical  faculties — Absolute  music  and  corporal  experi- 
ence— The  psychic  force  of  rhythm — The  study  of  movement 
awakens  the  whole  being — The  study  of  solfege  awakens  the 
sense  of  hearing  (pitch,  realisation  of  keys,  and  tone-quality) — 
The  study  of  improvisation  at  the  piano  externalises  concep- 
tions of  rhythm  and  solftge,  and  strengthens  the  sense  of  touch — 
Table  of  exercises  in  rhythmic  movement — Table  of  exercises 
in  solfege — Table  of  exercises  in  improvisation — Intimate 
connection  between  these  tables. 


113 


CHAPTER  VI 

RHYTHMIC  MOVEMENT,  SOLFEGE,  AND  IMPROVISATION 


EAR  training  alone  will  not  make  a  child  love  and  ap- 
preciate music  ;  the  most  potent  element  in  music,  and 
the  nearest  related  to  life,  is  rhythmic  movement. 

Rhythm,  like  dynamics,  depends  entirely  on  move- 
ment, and  finds  its  nearest  prototype  in  our  muscular 
system.1  All  the  nuances  of  time  —  allegro,  andante, 
accelerando,  ritenuto  —  all  the  nuances  of  energy,  forte, 
piano,  crescendo,  diminuendo  —  can  be  "realised"  by 
our  bodies,  and  the  acuteness  of  our  musical  feeling 
will  depend  on  the  acuteness  of  our  bodily  sensations. 

A  special  gymnastic  system,  habituating  muscles  to 
contract  and  relax,  and  corporal  lines  to  widen  and 
shrink  in  time  and  space,  should  supplement  metrical 
feeling  and  instinct  for  rhythm.  This  system  of  gym- 
nastics must  be  adaptable  to  the  most  divergent  tem- 
peraments; for  no  two  individuals,  however  well 
endowed  intellectually  and  physically,  will  react  in 
quite  the  same  way  —  one  following  the  instructions  more 
slowly,  another  more  quickly.  Some  succeed  in  execut- 
ing a  particular  exercise  in  a  given  time,  but  fail,  on  a 
sudden  command,  to  commence  a  new  exercise,  and 
continue  the  first  in  spite  of  their  anxiety  to  interrupt 

x  See  Chap.  IV,  pp.  79,  80. 

"5 


n6    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

it.  Others,  having  made  a  good  beginning,  suddenly 
hesitate,  and  finish  in  confusion  what  was  begun  with 
full  confidence  and  clarity. 

The  fact  is,  that  for  the  precise  physical  execution  of 
a  rhythm,  it  is  not  enough  to  have  grasped  it  intellec- 
tually and  to  possess  a  muscular  system  capable  of 
interpreting  it;  in  addition,  and  before  all  else,  com- 
munications should  be  established  between  the  mind 
that  conceives  and  analyses,  and  the  body  that  executes. 

These  communications  depend  on  the  functioning  of 
the  nervous  system.  It  is  rare,  in  these  days,  to  find  a 
person  whose  mental  and  bodily  processes  are  perfectly 
harmonised.  Relations  between  the  imaginative  and 
executive  faculties  are  too  often  compromised  by  a  lack 
of  freedom  in  the  nerve  currents,  owing  to  the  re- 
sistance of  certain  muscles,  produced  by  the  tardy 
transmission  of  mental  orders  for  their  contraction  or  re- 
laxation. The  consciousness  of  a  persistent  resistance 
in  the  muscular  system,  or  a  disorder  in  the  nervous 
system,  produces  mental  confusion,  lack  of  confidence 
in  one's  powers,  and  general  "nervyness."  This  con- 
dition, in  its  turn,  produces  lack  of  concentration.  The 
brain  finds  itself  a  prey  to  incessant  solicitude,  which 
prevents  it  from  functioning  clearly,  and  devoting  the 
necessary  time  and  repose  to  the  control  of  the  whole 
organism  and  the  analysis  of  the  orders  to  be  issued 
for  execution. 

The  better  our  lives  are  regulated,  the  freer  we  be- 
come in  every  way.  The  more  words  included  in  our 
vocabulary,  the  more  our  thought  is  enriched.  The 
more  automatism  possessed  by  our  body,  the  more  our 
soul  will  rise  above  material  things.  Constant  concern 


Rhythm,  Solfege,  Improvisation    117 

with  our  bodies  deprives  us  of  a  large  measure  of  free- 
dom of  spirit.  Are  not  most  men  slaves  of  their  corpo- 
ral functions,  prisoners  of  matter?  And,  contrary  to 
the  popular  idea,  the  premature  development  of  in- 
tellect, and  overspecialised  studies,  far  from  clarifying 
the  mind,  are  apt  to  disturb  and  unbalance  it.  What 
is  known  as  "absolute"  music  is  music  completely 
dematerialised — not  directly  addressed  to  our  sensorial 
faculties,  but  which  seeks  to  awaken  emotion  by  means 
of  developments  and  combinations  of  a  metaphysical 
order.  This  transcendent  form  of  art  can  only  be 
appreciated  by  those  who  have  triumphed  over  their 
bodily  resistances,  and  yet  this  attainment  may  in- 
volve primary  physical  means.  So  long  as  the  body  has 
not  been  perfectly  developed,  there  must  be  constant 
friction  between  sensations  and  feelings,  and  this  in- 
cessant conflict  between  body  and  spirit  will  prohibit 
the  necessary  spiritualisation  of  matter.  Music  can 
never  be  rendered  entirely  pure  until  the  body  has  been 
purified,  and  this  can  only  be  accomplished  by  seeing 
oneself  clearly  and  discerning  one's  impurities. 

One  of  the  first  results  of  exercises  designed,  on  the 
one  hand,  to  create  automatisms  and  to  assure  the  ef- 
fective working  of  the  muscular  system,  and,  on  the 
other,  to  establish  clear  and  rapid  communication  be- 
tween the  two  poles  of  our  being  and  encourage  the 
expansion  of  our  natural  rhythms — one  of  the  first 
results  of  these  exercises  is  to  teach  the  child  to  know 
and  control  himself,  and,  as  it  were,  take  possession  of 
his  personality.  Initiated  into  the  marvellous  mechan- 
ism of  this  body  of  ours,  provided  for  consecration  as  a 
worthy  dwelling-place  for  the  soul — confident  of  achiev- 


n8    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

ing  without  effort  or  preoccupation  any  movement 
suggested  by  others  or  by  himself, — the  child  will  feel 
rising  and  growing  in  him  the  will  to  make  full  use  of 
the  abundant  forces  in  his  potential  control.  His  im- 
agination will  likewise  develop,  inasmuch  as  his  spirit, 
freed  from  all  constraint  and  physical  disquietude,  can 
give  free  rein  to  his  fantasy. 

Functioning  develops  the  organ,  and  the  conscious- 
ness of  organic  functioning  develops  thought.  And  as 
the  child  feels  himself  delivered  of  all  physical  embar- 
rassment, and  mental  obsession  of  an  inferior  order,  joy 
will  come  to  birth  in  him.  This  joy  is  a  new  factor  in 
ethical  progress,  a  new  stimulus  to  will-power. 

The  aim  of  all  exercises  in  eurhythmies  is  to  strength- 
en the  power  of  concentration,  to  accustom  the  body 
to  hold  itself,  as  it  were,  at  high  pressure  im  readiness 
to  execute  orders  from  the  brain,  to  connect  the  con- 
scious with  the  sub-conscious,  and  to  augment  the  sub- 
conscious faculties  with  the  fruits  of  a  special  culture 
designed  for  that  purpose.  In  addition,  these  exercises 
tend  to  create  more  numerous  habitual  motions  and 
new  reflexes,  to  obtain  the  maximum  effect  by  a  mini- 
mum of  effort,  and  so  to  purify  the  spirit,  strengthen 
the  will-power,  and  install  order  and  clarity  in  the 
organism. 

The  whole  method  is  based  on  the  principle  that 
theory  should  follow  practice,  that  children  should  not 
be  taught  rules  until  they  have  had  experience  of  the 
facts  which  have  given  rise  to  them,  and  that  the  first 
thing  to  be  taught  a  child  is  the  use  of  all  his  faculties. 
Only  subsequently  should  he  be  made  acquainted  with 
the  opinions  and  deductions  of  others.  Before  sowing 


Rhythm,  Solfege,  Improvisation    119 

the  seed,  you  must  prepare  your  soil.  In  respect  of 
music,  especially,  the  present  practice  is  to  put  an  im- 
plement in  the  hands  of  children,  who  have  no  idea 
what  to  do  with  it.  We  have  frequently  deplored  the 
fact  that  they  are  taught  the  piano  before  they  have 
shown  any  musical  propensities,  *  before  they  can  hear 
sounds  or  appreciate  rhythms,  before  their  feeling  for 
sounds  and  rhythmic  movement  is  developed — before 
their  whole  being  vibrates  in  response  to  artistic 
emotions. 

The  aim  of  eurhythmies  is  to  enable  pupils  at  the 
end  of  their  course,  to  say,  not  "I  know,"  but  "I  have 
experienced,"  and  so  create  in  them  the  desire  to  ex- 
press themselves;  for  the  deep  impression  of  an  emo- 
tion inspires  a  longing  to  communicate  it,  to  the  extent 
of  one's  powers,  to  others.  The  more  we  have  of  life, 
the  more  we  are  able  to  diffuse  life  about  it.  "Receive 
and  give!"  is  the  golden  rule  of  humanity;  and  if  the 
whole  system  of  rhythmic  training  is  based  on  music, 
it  is  because  music  is  a  tremendous  psychic  force:  a 
product  of  our  creative  and  expressive  functions  that, 
by  its  power  of  stimulating  and  disciplining,  is  able  to 
regulate  all  our  vital  functions. 

The  actual  practice  of  individual  rhythms  (as  also 
the  method  adopted  for  the  purpose)  is  more  than  a  pe- 
dagogic system.  Rhythm  is  a  force  analogous  to  elec- 
tricity and  the  great  chemical  and  physical  elements, 
— an  energy,  an  agent — radio-active,  radio-creative — 
conducing  to  self-knowledge  and  to  a  consciousness 
not  only  of  our  powers,  but  of  those  of  others,  of  hu- 
manity itself.  It  directs  us  to  the  unplumbed  depths 

1  See  Chapter  III,  p.  13,  and  Chapter  V,  p.  95. 


120    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

of  our  being.  It  reveals  to  us  secrets  of  the  eternal 
mystery  that  has  ruled  the  lives  of  men  throughout  the 
ages;  it  imprints  on  our  minds  a  primitive  religious 
character  that  elevates  them,  and  brings  before  us 
past,  present,  and  future.  Thus  it  seems  to  me  to  be 
destined — in  a  far  distant  future,  when  sufficient  high- 
minded  people  can  collaborate  for  the  purpose — to 
create  more  intimate  relations  between  mental  and 
nervous  processes,  and  to  unite  all  the  vital  forces  of  the 
individual.  But  confining  myself  to  my  r61e  of  musical 
pedagogue,  I  can  here  only  insist  on  the  tremendous 
part  played  by  rhythm  in  the  formation  of  musical 
individuality,  and  indicate  the  nature  and  scope  of  the 
exercises  invented  up  to  the  present,  and  their  close 
connection  with  those  relating  to  the  subjects  of  ele- 
mentary musical  training  next  in  order  of  importance, 
namely,  those  of  the  hearing  faculties  (solfdge)  and  of 
the  capacity  of  spontaneous  creation  (improvisation) . 


The  study  of  RHYTHM  awakens: 

I.     Feeling    for    bodily  2.    Aural  perception  of 

rhythm —  rhythm — 

and 

(i)  develops,  by  means  of  a  (2)  develops,  by  means  of 

special  training  of  the  mus-  a  special  system  of  aural 

cular    system    and    nerve  training,  the  capacity  for 

centres,  thecapacity for  per-  perceiving  and  expressing 

ceiving  and  expressing  nu-  nuances  of  force  and  time- 

ances  of  force  and  elasticity  duration  of  sounds,  sponta- 


Rhythm,  Solfege,  Improvisation    121 

in   time   and   space — like-  neous  and  deliberate  appre- 

wise  concentration  in  the  ciation  of  sounds — likewise 

analysis,   and  spontaneity  concentration  and  sponta- 

in  the  execution,  of  rhythm-  neity  in  their  analysis  and 

ic    movements,     enabling  vocal  expression,   enabling 

pupils  to  read,  mark,  and  pupils     to     read,     mark, 

finally  create  rhythm  (both  and   finally   create   sound 

mentally  and    physically).  rhythms    (both    mentally 

and  physically). 

The  study  of  SOLFEGE  awakens: 

the  sense  of  pitch  and  tone-relations  and  the  faculty  of  dis- 
tinguishing tone-qualities. 

It  teaches  the  pupil  to  hear,  and  to  reproduce  men- 
tally, melodies  in  all  keys  (single  and  simultaneous),  and 
every  kind  and  combination  of  harmony;  to  read  and 
improvise  vocally;  to  write  down  and  use  the  material 
for  constructing  music  himself. 

The  study  of  pianoforte  IMPROVISATION 

combines  the  principles  of  rhythm  and  solfege,  with  a 
view  to  their  musical  externalisation,  by  means  of  touch ; 
awakens  the  motor-tactile  consciousness,  and  teaches 
pupils  to  interpret  on  the  piano  musical  thoughts  of 
a  melodic,  harmonic,  and  rhythmic  nature. 

The  following  exercises  are  designed  to  train,  on  these 
principles,  body,  ear,  and  mind. 

RHYTHMIC  MOVEMENT 

i.  Exercises  in  Muscular  Relaxation  and  Breathing. 
— The  pupil  is  trained  to  reduce  to  a  minimum  the 


122    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

muscular  activity  of  each  limb,  then  gradually  to  apply 
its  powers.  Lying  on  his  back,  he  relaxes  his  whole 
body  and  concentrates  his  attention  on  breathing,  in 
all  its  processes;  then  on  the  contraction  of  a  single 
limb.  He  is  then  taught  to  contract  simultaneously 
two  or  more  limbs,  or  to  combine  the  contraction  of  one 
limb  with  the  relaxation  of  another.  This  enables  him 
to  note  its  muscular  resistances,  and  to  eliminate  those 
that  serve  no  purpose.  Exercises  in  breathing  may  be 
associated  with  those  of  innervation,  and  applied  to  all 
positions. 

2.  Metrical  Division  and  Accentuation. — The  pupil 
is  trained  to  distinguish  different  times  by  marching 
the  beats  and  accentuating  the  first  beat  of  each  bar 
with  a  stamp  of  the  foot.    Gestures  with  the  arm  ac- 
ccmpany  each  step,  and  emphasise  the  first  beat  by 
means  of  a  complete  muscular  contraction.    On  the 
weak  beats,  steps  and  gestures  should  be  executed  with 
a  minimum  of  muscular  effort.    Then,  on  a  sudden 
command,  at  the  word  "hopp, "  the  pupil  must  con- 
trive to  prevent  his  arm  from  contracting,  or  his  foot 
from  stamping.      Or,  again,  the  word  "hopp"  may  be 
made  to  convey  the  order  to  stamp  suddenly  or  con- 
tract the  arm  on  a  different  beat,  or  to  substitute  a 
leg  movement  for  an  arm  movement.    It  is  extremely 
difficult  to  separate  leg  from  arm  movements,  and  it 
is  only  by  dint  of  repeated  exercises  that,  eventually, 
distinct  automatisms  are  created. 

3.  Metrical  Memorisation. — After  "hopps"  have  in- 
dicated various  distinct  movements;  the  pupil  has  to 


Rhythm,  Solfege,  Improvisation    123 

recall  these  movements,  and  in  the  order  in  which  they 
were  executed.  These  exercises  thus  constitute  a  form 
of  analysis,  and  conscious  and  deliberate  application, 
of  sub-conscious  movements.  The  pupil  must  have  exe- 
cuted each  movement  before  he  explains  and  notes  it. 

4.  Rapid  Conception  of  Bar-time  by  the  Eye  and  Ear. 
— Once  the  pupil  can  execute  movements  in  a  certain 
order  and  substitute,  at  the  word  "hopp,"  one  move- 
ment for  another,  he  becomes  capable  of  dispensing 
with  definite  commands.    These  are  replaced  by  aural 
and    visual    symbols,   representing    their    sensations. 
Series  of  bars  are  played  to  the  pupil,  whose  ear  dic- 
tates appropriate  movements;  or,  again,  the  sight  of 
the  movements  executed  by  others,  or  noted  on  the 
blackboard,  calls  for  their  spontaneous  expression  by 
direct  imitation. 

5.  Conception  of  Rhythms  by  Muscular  Sense. — The 
body  possesses  a  certain  number  of  natural  rhythms, 
which  manifest   themselves   in  a   definite   time   and 
with  a  certain  degree  of  energy,  according  to  tem- 
perament.   The  perception  of  the  degrees  of  muscular 
tension  is  accompanied  by  that  of  the  variations  of 

.time-duration,  and  strengthened  by  the  sensation  of 
greater  or  smaller  amplitude  of  the  movements  in  space. 
This  amplitude  depends  on  the  greater  or  lesser  degree 
of  resistance  of  the  conflicting  muscles.  By  means 
of  a  whole  series  of  graduated  exercises,  the  pupil  is 
trained  to  adapt  different  muscular  processes  for  short 
and  long  durations  respectively,  to  estimate  durations 
according  to  the  sensations  of  tension  and  extension  of 
muscles,  of  opening  and  closing  of  limbs  in  space,  to  co- 


124    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

ordinate  the  different  dynamic  forces  of  the  body,  and 
to  apply  the  measure  of  space  to  the  control  of  the 
duration  and  intensity  of  muscular  contractions.  The 
master  should  be  careful  to  see  that  the  co-ordination 
of  movements  does  not  rob  them  of  their  spontaneity. 

6.  Development  of  Spontaneous  Will-power  and  Facul- 
ties of  Inhibition. — Musical  rhythm  consists  of  movements 
and  repressions  of  movements.    Musicians  with  irregu- 
lar rhythms  are  those  whose  muscles  are  too  slow  or  too 
quick  in  responding  to  mental  orders,  who  lose  time  in  sub- 
stituting one  movement  for  another,  or  who  cannot  check 
themselves  in  time,  or  else  check  themselves  too  hastily, 
ignoring  the  art  of  preparing  repressions  of  movement. 
Special  exercises  will  enable  the  pupil  to  check  move- 
ments suddenly  or  by  degrees,  to  change  a  forward  for 
a  backward  or  sideward  step,  and  vice  versa;  or  to 
effect  a  jump,  at  command,  without  breaking  the  time, 
and  right  himself  with  a  minimum  of  effort,  again 
without  breaking  the  time. 

7.  Exercises  in  Concentration.      Creation  of  Mental 
Hearing  of  Rhythms. — The  practice  of  bodily  movements 
awakens  images  in  the  mind.    The  stronger  the  muscular 
sensations,  the  clearer  and  more  precise  the  images,  and 
thereby  the  more  metrical  and  rhythmic  feeling  is  de- 
veloped ;  for  feeling  is  born  of  sensation .  The  pupil  who  is 
able  to  march  in  time,  and  according  to  certain  rhythms, 
has  only  to  close  his  eyes  to  imagine  himself  continuing 
to  march  metrically  and  rhythmically.    He  continues 
the  movement  in  thought.    If  his  movements  are  slack, 
his  imaginative  representations  of  them  will  likewise 


Rhythm,  Solfege,  Improvisation    125 

be  slack.  The  precision  and  regulated  dynamic  force 
of  muscular  automatisms  are  a  guarantee  of  the  pre- 
cision of  thought-automatisms,  and  the  regular  devel- 
opment of  imaginative  faculties. 

The  study  of  repressions  of  steps  prepares  us  for  rests 
in  music.  These,  if  devoid  of  movement,  are  by  no  means 
devoid  of  life.  The  study  of  periods  intercepted  by 
rests  teaches  the  pupil  the  laws  of  musical  phrasing. 

8.  Exercises  in  Corporal  Balance,  and  to  Produce  Con- 
tinuity of  Movement. — Ease  of  movement  depends  on 
balance.     The  conception  of  movements  extending  over 
long  beats  is  fortified  by  stability  of  attitude,  and  the 
assurance  of  continuity  in  the  movements.  This  continu- 
ity should  be  capable  of  operating  in  all  degrees  of  mus- 
cular energy,  and  of  being  interrupted  at  will.  The  clear 
perception  of  continuity  and  interruption  assures  that 
of  the  balance  of  rhythmic  bars  and  the  conception  of 
their  divers  processes  of  construction,  all  of  which  relate 
to  the  science  of  opposition  and  contrast. 

9.  Exercises  for  the  A  cquisition  of  Numerous  A  utoma- 
tisms,  and  their  Combination  and  Alternation  with  Actions 
of  Spontaneous  Volition. — Muscular  actions,  after  con- 
stant repetition,  pass  outside  the  control  of  the  brain. 
New  reflexes  can  be  created,  and  the  time  lost  between 
the  conception  and  realisation  of  the  movement  reduced 
to  a  strict  minimum.     The  cultivation  of  automatisms 
should  be  effected  in  all  nuances  of  tempo.     Conformity 
with  these  nuances  depends  on  the  perception  of  the 
degrees  of  muscular  energy  necessary  for  effecting  the 
movements.  Automatisms  should  be  capable  of  replace- 


i26    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

ment  by  others  without  effort ;  they  may  be  combined 
and  harmonised  over  different  parts  of  the  body.  The 
pupil  should  also  learn  to  combine  automatisms  of  his 
limbs  with  those  of  speech  and  song.  The  laws  gov- 
erning the  natural  rhythmicisation  of  verbal  rhythms 
are  similar  to  those  relating  to  the  balance  of  sound 
rhythms,  whether  vocal  or  instrumental. 

10.  Realisation  of  Musical  Note-values. — Notes  of 
long  duration  are  formed  by  the  adding  together  of 
notes  of  short  duration:  this  is  the  Greek  conception 
of  rhythm.    The  pupil  trained  to  express  a  crotchet  by 
means  of  a  step  forward,  will  divide  up  longer  notes 
by  movements  made  while  in  that  position.     A  minim 
will  be  interpreted  by  a  step  forward,  followed  by  a 
knee-bend  of  the  body,  etc.     When  the  pupil  has  ac- 
customed himself  to  these  various  movements  indi- 
cating divisions,  it  will  suffice  for  him  to  execute  them 
mentally  and  to  take  his  step  forward  by  a  movement 
of  uninterrupted  progression.    This  will  maintain  the 
exact  duration  necessary,  for  he  will  be  mentally  mak- 
ing these  divisions. 

1 1 .  Division  of  Beats. — Exercises  in  the  dividing  of 
notes  of  long  duration  are  resumed,  but  by  an  inverted 
process  (the  modern  conception  of  duration) .  Each  crot- 
chet should,  at  command,  be  subdivided  into  two  (duo- 
lets),  three  (triolets),  or  four  (quadriolets)  shorter  steps, 
etc.  This  division  may  naturally  be  facilitated  by  a  mas- 
tery of  bodily  balance  and  the  means  of  transferring  the 
weight  of  the  body ;  by  a  diminution  of  the  activity  of 
constraining  muscles,  and  by  the  perception  of  the 


Rhythm,  Solfege,  Improvisation    127 

relations  between  space  and  time.  For  the  execution 
of  syncopation  by  anticipation,  the  step  that  has  to  be 
made  at  a  particular  moment  and  in  a  certain  time  is 
replaced  by  a  shorter  step  effected  in  half  the  time, 
the  second  half  of  the  time  being  occupied  by  a 
knee-bend.  For  the  execution  of  retarded  syncopation 
the  step  is  prolonged  half  the  time,  and  the  movement 
forward  replaced  by  a  bending.  This  is  the  most 
difficult  exercise  of  the  course.  The  most  musically 
gifted  people  can  execute  it  with  ease  only  after  some 
months  of  practice.  Once  the  student  can  perform  it 
without  trouble,  he  is  recognised  as  having  attained 
an  elementary  flexibility  sufficient  for  the  acquisition 
of  a  feeling  for  expressive  accent  (accent  pathetique). 
Children  usually  have  less  trouble  in  acquiring  this 
flexibility  than  adults. 

12.  Immediate  Realisation  by  the  Body  of  Musical 
Rhythm. — This  is  a  question  of  the  spontaneous  repre- 
sentation of  musical  time- values  and  degrees  of  force  by 
muscular  and  respiratory  actions,  transposing  sound- 
rhythms  into  plastic  rhythms.  The  exactitude  and 
promptitude  of  the  execution  depend  on  the  utilisation  of 
acquired  bodily  automatisms,  and  on  the  development  of 
the  faculties  of  psychic  concentration.  The  mind  has  no 
time  to  record  all  the  elements  of  the  musical  rhythms: 
the  body  expresses  them  before  the  brain  has  even  a 
clear  idea  of  them.  This  is  a  phenomenon  identical 
with  that  of  verbal  expression.  A  word  once  heard  is 
repeated  without  analysing  its  formation.  It  is  only 
after  hearing  it  in  thought  that  all  the  letters  forming 
it  can  be  transcribed. 


128    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

Once  the  corporal  expression  of  musical  rhythms  has 
become  comparatively  easy,  one  may  develop  the  stu- 
dent's powers  of  concentration  by  setting  him,  while 
executing  a  rhythm  already  heard,  to  listen  to  a  second : 
one  automatism  being  in  operation  while  another  is 
preparing;  the  body  in  the  past,  the  mind  intent  on 
the  future. 

13.  Exercises  in  the  Dissociation  of  Movements. — 
These  are  exercises  preparatory  to  the  execution  of  dy- 
namic nuances.     Just  as,  at  the  piano,  one  hand  may 
play  forte  to  the  other's  piano,  so  the  plastic  expression 
of  vitalised  musical  rhythms  demands  conflicting  nu- 
ances of  muscular  innervation  in  different  limbs.  Special 
exercises  enable  the  student  to  contract  a  certain  muscle 
in  one  arm,  while  the  same  muscle  in  the  other  arm 
remains  decontracted.    Other  exercises  show  him  how 
time  may  be  subdivided  in  one  way  by  one  limb,  in 
another  by  a  different  one — e.g.,  by  the  execution  in  a 
given  time  of  three  equal  movements  with  the  feet  and 
two,  four,  or  five  with  the  arms.    Even  more  than  the 
others,  these  exercises  contribute  to  the  development 
of  concentration. 

14.  Interruptions  and  Repressions  of  Movements. — 
Balance  and  punctuation  of  bars  and  phrases  of  "cor- 
poral speech,"  according  to  the  laws  of  musical  phrasing 
— Antitheses  and  contrasts — Study  of  anacrusis — The 
different  ways  of  breathing — The  different  ways  of 
checking  and  interrupting  steps  and  gestures. 

15.  Double  and  Triple  Speed  and  Slowness  of  Move- 
ments.— These  exercises  constitute  a  bodily  preparation 


•Z3 
co 

o 


(L) 

a 

<u 
O 


Rhythm,  Solfege,  Improvisation    129 

for  the  musical  processes  of  developing  a  theme  known  as 
'  'augmentation"  and  ' '  diminution. ' '  It  may  be  noticed 
that,  in  their  fugues,  composers  usually  confine  them- 
selves to  doubling  or  quadrupling  the  speed  or  slowness 
of  their  theme.  A  new  element  in  rhythmic  develop- 
ment is  constituted  by  trebly  augmenting  or  diminish- 
ing the  speed  of  a  binary  rhythm. 

16  and  17.  Plastic  Counterpoint  and  Polyrhythm. — 
These  exercises  are  simple  transpositions  in  the  cor- 
poral sphere  of  current  exercises  of  musical  technique. 
The  advantage  of  these  transpositions  is  that  they 
accustom  the  organism  to  experience  simultaneously  im- 
pressions of  various  kinds.  One  can  imagine  counter- 
points of  all  kinds.  The  interesting  and  useful  thing 
is  to  experience — live — them  organically.  Polyrhythm  is 
facilitated  by  the  cultivation  of  automatisms.  An  arm 
will  execute  a  rhythm  automatically,  while  the  mind 
regulates  the  execution  of  a  second  rhythm  by  another 
limb. 

1 8.  "  Pathetic ' '  A  ccentuation — Dynamic  and  A gogic 
Nuances  (Musical  Expression). — All  the  preceding  ex- 
ercises aim  at  developing  feeling  for  time  and  rhythm. 
The  following  exercises  tend  to  awaken  the  student's 
temperament,  and  to  cause  his  body  to  vibrate  in  unison 
with  music.  They  "place"  the  different  degrees  of  am- 
plitude of  movements,  the  crescendi  and  decrescendi  of 
innervation,  teaching  the  body  to  pass  rapidly  from  one 
expressive  nuance  to  another,  seeking  to  arouse  the  per- 
sonal music  of  different  individualities,  and  to  establish 
lines  of  rapid  communication  between  the  aural  and 


130    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

motor  systems  by  an  attempt  to  perfect  the  harmoni- 
sation  of  the  nervous  system,  trained  to  immediate 
activity  or  passivity,  as  occasion  demands.  In  short, 
they  endeavour  to  co-ordinate  external  music  with  that 
within  each  of  us,  and  which  is  only  the  echo  of  our  indi- 
vidual rhythms,  our  sorrows  and  joys,  our  desires  and 
powers. 

19.  Exercises  in  Notation  of  Rhythms. — The  stu- 
dent is  trained  to  record  a  rhythm  he  hears  or  sees 
executed. 

20.  Exercises  in  Improvisation  (Cultivation  of  Imagi- 
native Faculties}. — The  student,  upon  command,  has  to 
improvise  a  series  of  bars  in  2,  3,  4,  5,  or  6  time,  etc., 
or  to  invent  rhythms,  utilising  given  elements,  with  or 
without  anacrusis,  with  pathetic  accentuation,  rests, 
syncopations,  etc.,  in  phrases  and  sentences;  likewise 
combined  rhythms. 

21.  Conducting  Rhythms  (Rapid  Communication  to 
Others — Soloists  or  Groups — of  Individual  Sensations  and 
Feelings). — Being  given  a  rhythm  that  the  students 
know  by  heart,  a  student  has  to  conduct  a  performance 
of  it  by  indicating  in  expressive  gestures  the  agogic  or 
dynamic  nuances. 

22 .  Execution  of  Rhythms  by  Several  Groups  of  Pupils 
(Initiation  into  Musical  Phrasing). — Each  rhythm  of  a 
musical  phrase  is  expressed  by  a  group  of  students,  the 
ensemble  of  the  groups  punctuating  the  different  episodes 
of  the  complete  work. 


Rhythm,  Solfege,  Improvisation    131 

It  must  be  understood  that  these  exercises  do  not 
profess  to  constitute  the  whole  artistic  training  of  the 
student,  but  they  must,  in  due  course,  inevitably  de- 
velop his  self-knowledge ; — revealing  to  him  his  numer- 
ous motor  faculties,  and  augmenting  the  sum  of  his 
vital  sensations.  Art  cannot  dispense  with  knowledge 
of  life.  Only  by  familiarising  the  student  with  life 
can  we  develop  in  him  a  love  for  art  and  the  desire  to 
pursue  it. 

AURAL  TRAINING 

After  a  year's  rhythmic  training,  the  student  passes 
into  the  solf  ege  class.  He  will  continue  the  above  series 
of  exercises,  the  master  adapting  them  to  the  needs  of 
a  musical  voice  and  ear.  After  developing  the  student's 
mental  hearing  and  physical  expression  of  rhythms,  he 
will  proceed  to  train  his  power  of  hearing,  realising, 
and  creating  musical  sounds  in  rhythm. 

APPLICATION  OF  EXERCISES  IN  RHYTHMIC  MOVEMENT 
TO  THE  STUDY  OF  SOLFEGE 

I .  Contraction  and  Decontr  action  of  the  Muscles  of  the 
Neck,  and  the  Breathing  Muscles.  Rhythmical  Gymnas- 
tics for  the  Lungs. — The  study  of  different  methods  of 
vocal  attack,  and  the  enunciation  of  consonants.  Con- 
flicting movements  of  arms,  shoulders,  and  diaphragm. 
Combination  of  vocal  attack  with  the  corresponding 
attack  in  beginning  to  march.  Distinguishing  divers 
nuances  of  intensity  of  sounds.  Connection  between 
breathing  and  vocal  emission.  Study  of  vocal  registers. 


i32    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

2.  Metrical  Division  and  Accentuation. — Differentia- 
tion of  bars  by  means  of  vocal  and  labial  accentuation. 
Attacking  sound  at  a  definite  moment  at  or  without  the 
command.    Rapid  substitution  of  a  corporal  movement 
for  an  attack  of  sound — of  an  attack  on  a  consonant  for 
one  on  a  vowel. 

3.  Metrical  Memorisation. — The  master  signifies  by 
"hopps"  a  series  of  attacks  of  sound  regularly  measured 
and  accentuated.    The  student  memorises  their  number 
and  accentuation,  and  repeats  them. 

4.  Rapid  Conception  of  Time  by  the  Eye  and  Ear. — 
Study  of  musical  symbols,  stave,  and  clefs.     Metrical 
expression  by  breathing  movements,  or  vocal  sounds, 
of  series  of  measured  notes  written  on  the  blackboard 
or  sung  by  the  master. 

5.  Perception  of  the  Pitch  (of  Sounds  Sung)  by  Means 
of  Dynamic  Muscular  Sense. — The  student  learns  to 
differentiate  vocal  sounds,  from  the  sensation  produced 
by  the  varying  degrees  of  tension  of  the  vocal  chords, 
and  according  to  the  localisation  of  sound  vibrations. 
His  hand,  laid  on  his  chest,  neck,  jaw,  nose,  or  brow, 
enables  him,  by  means  of  the  different  forms  of  reso- 
nance of  vibrations,  to  realise  the  pitch  of  the  notes 
emitted.     Study  of  the  relations  between  the  intensity 
and  pitch  of  sound.     Study  of  major  and  minor  keys. 
Recognition  and  imitation  of  selected  notes  in  the  scale. 
Divers  modes  of  setting  a  series  of  notes  to  rhythm. 
Reading  melodies. 


Rhythm,  Solfege,  Improvisation    133 

6.  Application  to  the  Voice  of  Exercises  in  Spontane- 
ous Will  and  Inhibition. — Substitution,  to  order,  in  a 
melodic  rhythm,  of  the  voice  for  bodily  movements, 
and  vice  versa.    Spontaneous  accentuation  and  punctu- 
ation at  signs  from  the  master.    Sudden  checks  and 
resumption  of  the  song  at  other  signs. 

7.  Exercises  in  Concentration.     Creation  of  Mental 
Hearing  of  Sounds. — The  student  sings  a  melody  or  a 
scale.    At  the  word  "hopp,"  he  ceases  singing  and  con- 
tinues the  melody  or  scale  in  thought.   Aural  perception 
of  the  harmonics  of  a  sound.     Distinguishing  the  tone 
of  a  particular  voice  (from  a  medley  of  others  singing 
or  talking,  etc. 

8.  Association  of  Continuous  Bodily  Movements  with 
Sustained  Vocal  Sounds.     Their  Combination  with  In- 
terrupted Movements. 

9.  Exercises  in  the  A  cquisition  of  Vocal  A  utomatisms, 
and  their  Combinations   and  Alternations  with   Vocal 
Expressions  of  Spontaneous  Will. — The  student  sings  a 
scale  according  to  a  certain  rhythm.     At  the  word 
"hopp,"  he  continues  the  scale  on  another  rhythm. 
...     Or  he  may,  after  singing  a  series  of  thirds  or 
fourths,  etc.,  sing  another  interval  at  command.   .    .    . 
Or  again,  while  singing  the  scale,  he  may  have  to  jump 
to  one  or  other  of  the  notes  at  a  sign  from  the  master, 
etc. 

10.  n,  and  12.     Application  of  Rhythmic  Exercises  to 
Vocal  "Realisation." — Chains  of  rhythms,  i.e.,  imita- 


134    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

tion  in  canon,  bar  by  bar,  of  a  melody  sung  by  the 
master.   .    .    .     Study  of  rests. 

13.  Exercises  in  Dissociation. — 

The  student  sings  ff  while  the  body  makes  movements  pp 

PP          "  "  "  ff 

ff  while  one  limb  moves  <  and  another  > 
pp  "  >  "  < 

<  >  /  PP 

3  notes  while  the  arms  or  feet  execute  2,  4, 
or  5  movements,  and  vice  versa,  etc. 

14.  Study  of  Rests  and  Phrasing. — Anacrusis — Rests 
occupied  by  mental  singing — Sentences  and  phrases 
—  Law  of  contrasts   and   antitheses  —  Contrapuntal 
phrasing. 

15.  Double  and  Triple  Speed  and  Slowness  of  Move- 
ments.— The  student,  while  singing  a  melody,  must,  at 
the  command  "hopp,"  effect  the  double  speed  or  slow- 
ness of  a  bar  or  beat.     The  arms  beating  the  measure 
continue  their  movements  in  the  original  tempo.    Com- 
binations and  contrasts  of  double  or  triple  speed,  or 
slowness  of  sound,  with  that  of  limbs. 

1 6  and  17.  Plastic  Polyrhyihm  and  Counterpoint. — 
The  student  will  sing  a  rhythm  while  marching  only 
the  second  half  of  each  note-value,  or  vice  versa.  He 
will  learn  to  sing  a  melody  while  executing  a  different 
rhythm  by  means  of  bodily  movements.  He  may  exe- 
cute a  canon :  singing  the  first  part,  clapping  his  hands 
for  the  second  and  marching  the  third.  He  will  listen 
to  a  two-part  rhythm  in  the  same  time  and  proceed  to 


Rhythm,  Solfege,  Improvisation    135 

sing  first  the  higher,  then  the  lower  part.  He  will 
listen  to  a  succession  of  chords,  and  reproduce  each 
vocal  line,  one  after  the  other,  etc. 

1 8.  Emotional  Accentuation — Dynamic  and  Agogic 
Nuances  (Musical  Expression). — The  student  is  trained 
to  accentuate  the  important  notes  of  a  rhythm,  to  ac- 
celerate or  retard,  effect  crescendi  or  decrescendi, — first 
by  instinct,  then  by  analysis.     Study  of  the  relations 
between  the  pitch  and  accentuation  of  sounds.1 

19.  Exercises  in  Notation  of  Melodies,  Polyphonies, 
and  Harmonic  Successions. 

20.  Exercises  in  Vocal  Improvisation. — The  student 
sings  a  melody  upon  a  given  rhythm,  or  improvises 
rhythms  upon  successions  of  notes  of  equal  duration. 

21  and  22.  Conducting  of  Rhythms. — The  student 
learns  a  melody  by  heart,  then  conducts  it  before  a 
group  of  students,  who  interpret  it  according  to  his  in- 
dications. The  same  for  melodies  in  several  parts. 

As  will  be  seen,  all  these  exercises  in  solfege  corre- 
spond, number  for  number,  with  those  in  rhythmic 
movement.  The  student  will  also  learn  to  distinguish 
keys,  according  to  the  method  described  in  my  Essay 
in  the  Reform  of  Musical  Education  (pp.  8  et  seq.), 
and  applied  in  the  three  volumes  on  Solfege  already 
referred  to.  He  may  then  commence  the  study  of 

1  See  the  rules  of  phrasing  and  accentuation  in  the  3  vols.  entitled 
Les  Gammes  et  les  TonaLites  (Jobin  &  Cie,  Publishers,  Lausanne). 


136    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

harmony.  Control  of  the  progressions  is  assured  by 
his  feeling  for  movement,  faculties  of  concentration, 
hearing,  and  listening  (cultivated  by  his  rhythmic  train- 
ing), and  sense  of  muscular  force  regulating  the  ac- 
curacy of  the  voice.  Before  transcribing  successions  of 
chords,  he  will  feel  them  resonate  within  him.  Appre- 
ciating the  connection  between  melody  and  movement, 
there  will  remain  the  co-ordination  of  movement,  melo- 
dy, and  harmony.  He  will  then  be  in  a  position  to  un- 
dertake the  study  of 

PIANOFORTE  IMPROVISATION, 

i.e.,  rapid  and  spontaneous  instrumental  composition. 
For  this  section  of  musical  education,  which  is  the 
synthesis  of  all  the  others,  the  student  will  require  a 
special  technique  for  fingers,  hand,  and  arm,  etc., 
facilitated,  like  that  in  solfege,  by  his  training  in  rhythm- 
ic movement.  The  above  exercises  will  therefore 
have  to  be  adapted  to  new  requirements  created  by 
instrumental  technique.  These  will  naturally  embrace 
the  special  and  universally  known  exercises,  without 
which  it  would  be  impossible  to  acquire  perfect  virtu- 
osity. But  we  must  point  out  that  what  pianists  call 
"technique"  is  too  often  confused  with  simple  rapidity. 
Dancers  of  the  old  school,  though  possessing  extraor- 
dinary velocity,  are  devoid  alike  of  balance  in  execut- 
ing continuous  movements  and  of  feeling  for  correct 
nuances,  phrasing,  and  successions  of  harmonised  ges- 
tures— and  yet  they  pass,  with  spectators  and  critics, 
for  past  masters  in  virtuosity,  the  word  virtuosity 
being,  to  them,  synonymous  with  velocity !  The  same 


Rhythm,  Solfege,  Improvisation    137 

is  apt  to  happen  with  regard  to  instrumental  virtuosity, 
which  becomes  a  mere  exercise  in  rapid  movements, 
failing  to  produce  that  unity  of  perceptive  and  reflective 
sensorial  and  analytical  activities,  which  alone  can  con- 
duce to  perfection  of  style.  Every  musical  manifesta- 
tion should  rest  on  a  joint  physical  and  intellectual 
basis,  demonstrating  the  inseparability  of  body  from 
soul.  If  instrumental  technique  is  to  produce  a  mere 
mechanical  flexibility  of  fingers,  why  not  replace  these 
by  even  more  efficiently  flexible  machines?  For  our 
purposes  the  ideal  technique  can  only  be  attained  by 
a  constant  collaboration  of  fingers  and  brain,  allying 
muscular  sensations  with  emotional  feeling.  A  musical 
virtuoso  requires  more  than  mere  agility  and  physical 
power,  vitality,  and  instinct  for  decorative  effects:  he 
requires,  in  addition,  diversity  of  touch,  in  slow  as  in 
quick  movements,  in  runs  as  well  as  in  melodic  phrases; 
balance  of  dynamic  effects;  the  art  of  musical  "breath- 
ing," that  is,  of  establishing  regulated  contrasts;  and 
the  art  of  adapting  to  his  particular  temperament  the 
individualistic  effects  of  the  great  composers. r  I  know 
few  pianists  capable  of  treating  a  "run"  as  a  simple 
acceleration  of  speed  in  the  musical  realm  of  ideas  and 
feelings,  and  who  refrain  from  isolating  the  particular 
line  of  the  run  from  the  ensemble  of  divers  opposing  or 
converging  lines  constituting  the  architecture  of  the 
piece. 

1  We  should  mention  the  remarkable  work  by  Mile.  Blanche  Selva, 
on  Pianoforte  Technique  in  which  may  be  found  highly  interesting  ob- 
servations on  the  physiology  of  movements  at  the  piano.  The  exercises 
of  the  Selva  method,  like  a  number  of  the  Leschetizky,  Philipp,  and 
Matthay  methods,  are  based  on  direct  observation  of  the  natural 
rhythms  of  the  hand  and  arm. 


138    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

Before  touching  the  piano  the  student  should  possess 
the  muscular  mechanism  necessary  for  its  mastery — 
at  least,  as  regards  the  practising  of  preparations  and 
repressions  of  movements,  and  combinations  of  syner- 
gic and  constraining  muscles.  He  should  likewise  be 
familiar  with  the  elements  of  solf£ge,  and  possess  the 
ear  to  enable  him  to  compare  mentally  sounds  on  paper 
with  those  he  is  about  to  produce  on  the  instrument. 
The  following  table  of  exercises  is  founded  on  the  pre- 
ceding two,  with  which  the  reader  would  do  well  to 
compare  it.  It  does  not  include  the  regular  exercises 
in  harmony  and  counterpoint,  which  are  indispensable 
for  pianoforte  improvisation,  and  which  may  be  prac- 
tised concurrently  with  our  own. 

APPLICATION  OF  EXERCISES  IN  RHYTHM  AND  SOLFEGE 
TO  PRACTICE  OF  PIANOFORTE  IMPROVISATION 

1 .  Exercises  in  Muscular  Contraction  and  Decontr ac- 
tion.— Study  of  the  different  mechanisms  of  the  arms ;  at- 
tacking sounds  by  means  of  different  starting-points  in 
the  movement  of  the  arm,  forearm,  and  wrist.    Study 
of  articulation  of  the  shoulder,  forearm,  wrist,  and 
fingers,  in  associated  and  dissociated  movements  (iso- 
lated and  combined  articulations) ;  divers  articulations 
of  the  fingers   (phalanges,   cushions,   and  tips)  wrist 
raised  or  lowered,  etc.    Dissociated  movements,  verti- 
cal and  horizontal,  legato  and  staccato.    Technique  of 
the  pedal. 

2.  Metrical  Division  and  Accentuation. — Study  of 
the  scales  with  regular  accentuations,  and  equal  time- 


Rhythm,  Solfege,  Improvisation    139 

measures  (duolets,  triolets,  quadriolets,  quintolets,  etc.) 
in  every  tone  and  tempo.  The  same  with  arpeggios 
and  successions  of  chords.  Regular  accentuations  in 
unequal  beats  (alternations  of  duolets  and  triolets, 
quadriolets  and  sextolets,  etc.).  Irregular  and  pathetic 
accentuations  at  the  word  "hopp."  Application  of  all 
these  exercises  to  different  rhythmic  formulae. 

3.  Metrical  Memorisation. — The  student  plays  scales 
and  successions  of  chords  not  specially  accentuated.    By 
means  of  the  command  "hopp,"  the  master  calls  for  a 
series  of  notes,  regularly  or  irregularly  barred  and  ac- 
centuated.    The  student  memorises  their  number  and 
accentuation,  and  repeats  them  (without  "hopps"). 

4.  Rapid  Conception  of  Time  by  the  Eye  and  Ear. — 
The  master  plays  softly,  at  a  second  piano,  scales  in 
various  times  of  rhythms.    The  student  at  once  imi- 
tates (in  syncopation)  the  rhythms  and  accentuations, 
noticing  the  repetition  of  accents,  which  he  afterwards 
reproduces  from  memory.    The  same  with  successions 
of  chords.    The  student  plays  chords  or  melodies  upon 
rhythms  indicated  on  the  blackboard. 

5 .  Study  of  Rhythms  in  Space  by  Means  of  the  Muscu- 
lar Sense. — The  student,  with  his  eyes  closed,  directs 
his  arms  to  different  points  of  the  keyboard,  and  meas- 
ures the  distance  between  these  points,  according  to  the 
greater  or  lesser  amplitude  of  the  movements,  and  the 
difference  of  the  muscular  sensations  they  call  forth. 
While  playing  a  scale,  the  master's  "hopp"  instructs 
him  to  skip  an  octave,  two  octaves,  or  a  third,  fifth,  etc. 


i4°    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

6.  Application  of  Exercises  in  Spontaneous  Will  and 
Inhibition   to   Piano-playing. — The    master's   "hopp" 
calls  for  pauses  and  resumptions  of  playing,  changes  of 
rhythm  and  tone,  chords,  transpositions,  variations  of 
pace,  alternations  of  nuances,  etc. 

7.  Exercises  in  Concentration.    Mental  Hearing. — 
While  executing  a  succession  of  chords,  the  student 
pauses  to  hear  mentally  the  chord  he  ought  to  play. 
Playing  only  three  parts  in  a  chorale  for  four  voices, 
and  following  the  fourth  part  in  his  mind,  etc. 

8.  Associations  of  Arm  and  Vocal  Movements. — The 
student  sings  a  continuous  melody,  which  he  accom- 
panies by  chords  or  scales,  and  vice  versa. 

9.  Exercises  for  the  Acquisition  of  Numerous  Auto- 
matisms, and  their  Combination  and  Alternation  with 
Actions  of  Spontaneous  Volition. — The  student  executes 
a  fixed  rhythm,  concentrating  on  its  melodisation  and 
harmonisation.    At  the  word  ' ' hopp, ' '  he  must  invent  a 
rhythm  of  a  different  order.    Or,  vice  versa,  the  "hopp" 
evokes  a  modulation  simultaneously  with  a  change  of 
rhythm,  or  a  change  of  rhythm  in  only  one  of  the  hands, 
etc.    The  voice  follows  the  melody  played  on  the  piano ; 
at  "hopp"  it  suddenly  opposes  a  different  melody  or 
another  rhythm — the  "hopp"  elicits  changes  of  time, 
suppressions  or  additions  of  beats,  or  fragments  of 
rhythms,  etc. 

10.  n,  and  12.    Application  of  Rhythmic  Exercises  to 
Pianoforte  Execution. — Practice  of  agogic  nuances,  cal- 


Rhythm,  Solfege,  Improvisation    141 

culated  accelerandi  and  ritardandi;  of  syncopations,  by 
anticipation  and  retardation;  of  subdivisions  of  time- 
durations,  etc. 

13.  Exercises  in  Dissociations  of  Movements. — The 
two  hands  playing  with  contrast  of  rhythm,  time,  nu- 
ances, phrasing,  tone-quantity,  or  tone-quality. 

14.  Study  of  Rests  and  Phrasing. — Sentences  and 
phrases;  different  kinds  of  rests  and  anacruses.    Laws 
of  contrasts. 

15.  Double  and  Triple  Speed  and  Slowness  of  Move- 
ment.— The  student  plays  scales  or  successions  of  chords 
and,  at  "hopp,"  augments  or  diminishes  the  pace  doubly 
or  trebly.     Agogic  augmentation  and  diminution  of 
given  rhythms.    Combinations  of  double  and  half,  triple 
and  double  speeds,  etc. 

1 6  and  17.  Plastic  Counterpoint  and  Polyrhythm. — 
The  student's  left  hand  plays  a  note  or  a  chord  on  the 
second  half  of  the  beat  executed  by  the  right  hand. 
And  vice  versa.  Counterpoint  in  duolets,  triolets,  quad- 
riolets,  etc.  Different  rhythms,  and  beats  in  either 
hand,  and  exercises  in  canon.  Study  of  various  kinds 
of  counterpoint — pianoforte  counterpoint  to  vocal 
themes  and  vice  versa.  Polydynamics. 

1 8 .  4 '  Pathetic1 '  accentuation — Nuances — Laws  of  Ex- 
pression.— Study  of  relations  between  harmony  and 
rhythm, *  chords  and  accentuations,  agogics  and  dyna- 

*See  fifth  part  of  the  Dalcroze  method:  U Improvisation  etl'accom- 
pagnement  CM  piano  (Jobin  &  Cie,  Lausanne).  (In  preparation.) 


Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

mics,  touch  and  hearing.  The  part  played  by  mod- 
ulation in  the  development  of  musical  themes,  and  in 
expressions  of  spontaneous  emotion. 

19  and  20.  Notation  and  Improvisation  of  Rhythms. — 
The  student  improvises  a  bar  at  the  piano;  then  no- 
tates  it  as  a  figured  bass.  Pianoforte  improvisation  of 
rhythmic  accompaniments  to  vocalised  melodies.  In- 
vention of  rhythmic  melodies  to  accompany  barred 
successions  of  harmonies. 

21.  Conducting  Rhythms. — The  student  improvises 
freely  at  the  piano,  under  the  direction  of  the  master  or 
another  student,  who  beats  the  time  and  indicates  the 
dynamic  and  agogic  nuances. 

22 .  Improvisation  at  Two  Pianos  (or  in  Quartet) . — 
Two  students  improvise  alternate  sentences  or  phrases. 

A  comparative  study  of  the  above  three  series  of 
exercises  will  serve  to  show  the  necessity  for  conscien- 
tious research  into  the  elementary  relations  between 
the  three  principal  branches  of  musical  education.  It 
is  significant  that  no  previous  study  of  harmony  or 
composition  has  indicated  the  reciprocal  influence  of 
rhythms  and  dynamics  on  melodies  and  harmonies. 
In  fact,  musical  education  hitherto  has  failed  to  estab- 
lish any  correlation  between  the  different  constituents 
of  music,  treating  each  as  isolated  and  specialised. 
Our  musical  mentors  of  to-morrow  will  have  to  work 
towards  the  general  harmonisation  of  these  elements. 


CHAPTER  VII 
EURHYTHMICS  AND  MUSICAL  COMPOSITION 


Rhythm  in  nature  —  Theory  of  the  born  musician  —  Experi- 
ments in  musical  rhythm  —  Contrasts  between  movement  and 
its  arrests,  sounds,  and  silences  —  New  method  of  noting  time- 
values  —  Unequal  beats  —  Analysis  of  the  elements  of  a  rhythm 
—  Rhythmic  activity  in  dissociation  and  opposition  —  Musical 
periods  and  the  art  of  phrasing  —  The  emotional  effects  of 
rests  —  Agogic  nuances  —  Twice  and  three  times  as  fast  and  as 
slow  —  Rubato  —  Observance  of  the  sense  of  time-duration  —  New 
education  and  methods. 


CHAPTER  VII 

EURHYTHMICS  AND  MUSICAL  COMPOSITION  (1915) 

HAVE  you  ever  found  yourself  on  some  fine  summer's 
day  lying  on  a  grassy  slope,  watching  the  trees  quiver- 
ing with  life,  and  above  them  the  clouds  ploughing  a 
blue  sky,  whilst  a  soft  breeze  stirs  the  leaves  and 
branches  and  causes  the  cornfields  to  undulate.  .  .  . 
At  first  you  will  be  conscious  only  of  a  vast  collective 
movement,  a  colossal  harmony  of  sounds  and  rhythms 
.  .  .  then,  little  by  little,  your  eye  and  ear  may  dis- 
tinguish details  of  the  symphony,  and  discern  in  this 
harmonious  conglomeration  a  whole  polyrhythm  of  in- 
comparable richness.  Each  larger  rhythm  will  split 
into  numerous  distinct  groups  of  smaller  rhythms,  and 
blend  or  conflict  with  other  movements  of  a  different 
order,  the  aspect  varying  infinitely  according  to  the 
degree  of  force  of  the  wind  which  brings  it  to  birth. 
Nature,  in  her  eternal  movement,  vibrates  both  in 
time  and  out  of  time.  The  mighty  rhythm  of  the  uni- 
verse is  a  compound  of  myriads  of  synchronising 
rhythms  of  infinite  diversity,  each  possessing  individual 
life.  One  cannot  witness  this  polyrhythm  without  won- 
dering that  such  rhythmic  profusion  as  nature  pours 
forth,  whilst  providing  virtually  the  painter's  whole 
inspiration,  so  seldom  appears  to  move  or  inspire  the 
musician.  Music  is  a  combination  of  rhythm  and 

10  145 


146    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

sound.  How  comes  it  that,  since  Beethoven,  our  mu- 
sicians have  sought  progress  only  in  harmony  and  tone, 
and  have  lost  the  mastery  of  sound-movements  in 
which  the  great  Flemish  composers  and  John  Sebastian 
Bach  excelled?  The  ear  is  capable  of  appreciating 
not  only  variety  of  tone-quality,  nuances  of  intensity 
and  difference  of  pitch,  but  also  the  infinite  variety  of 
time- values  and  duration.  Primitive  peoples  manifest, 
with  regard  to  polyrhythm,  far  more  ingenuity  and 
originality  than  ourselves.  Would  it  not  be  worth  a 
musician's  while  to  devote  as  much  care  to  the  study  of 
agogics  and  dynamics  as  to  that  of  melody  and  harmony  ? 
At  least,  one  would  suppose  that  the  experiments  of 
fellow-musicians,  particularly  sensitive  to  sound-move- 
ments, would  not  be  without  interest  to  him. 

But  this  is  apparently  not  the  case,  since  so  many 
music  professors  find  our  attempts  at  education  "by 
rhythm"  useless  or  fantastic.  It  might  be  worth  our 
while  to  reason  with  them,  in  the  hope  of  converting 
them;  but  life  is  too  short,  and  we  prefer  creative  work 
to  bandying  words.  One  can  understand  an  inability 
to  recognise  the  equal  importance  of  rhythm  and  sound 
in  music,  but  I  maintain  that  no  true  musician,  enter- 
ing a  hall  of  machinery  in  full  movement,  could  fail  to 
be  captivated  by  the  whirr  of  the  fabulous  symphony 
produced  by  the  magic  of  combined  and  dissociated 
rhythms,  and  to  be  tempted  inevitably  to  extract  the 
secrets  of  this  moving  and  quivering  life  that  animates 
nature,  man,  and  his  work  alike. 

There  is  a  theory  regarding  the  "born  musician," 
according  to  which  no  amount  of  musical  study  can 


Eurhythmies  147 

have  any  influence  on  temperament.  On  this  is  based 
the  verdict  of  certain  seers  that  rhythmic  movement 
can  be  of  no  direct  service  to  the  art  of  music;  for  (they 
tell  you) ,  on  the  one  hand,  it  has  nothing  to  teach  the  born 
musician,  and,  on  the  other,  a  person  not  born  a  musician 
can  never  be  made  one !  This  theory,  which  is  held  by 
many  musicians,  will  not  "hold  water."  Eurhythmies 
reveals  to  the  born  musician  a  host  of  sub-conscious 
resources,  which  he  could  otherwise  acquire  only  by 
dint  of  long  years  of  laborious  and  repeated  personal 
researches  and  experiments.  On  the  other  hand,  alone 
among  all  systems  of  musical  education,  eurhythmies 
is  capable  of  awakening  dormant  or  moribund  tempera- 
ment, of  provoking  in  the  organism  the  conflicts  neces- 
sary for  establishing  the  control  and  balance  of 
resistances,  and  of  bringing  to  consciousness,  by  means 
of  the  harmonisation  of  cerebral  and  motor  centres, 
and  the  canalisation  of  nervous  forces,  undreamt  of 
among  all  systems  of  musical  education,  eurhythmies 
is  capable  of  awakening  dormant  or  moribund  tem- 
perament, of  provoking  in  the  organism  the  conflicts 
necessary  for  establishing  the  control  and  balance  of 
resistances,  and  of  bringing  to  consciousness,  by  means 
of  the  harmonisation  of  cerebral  and  motor  centres,  and 
the  canalisation  of  nervous  forces,  undreamt-of  sources 
of  creative  and  artistic  vitality. 

It  is  impossible  for  those  specialising  in  music  to 
judge  eurhythmies  from  a  public  demonstration.  The 
minute  work  of  analysing  and  constructing  rhythms 
can  only  be  appreciated  in  the  lessons,  and  then  only 
by  persons  who  are  themselves  actually  taking  part 
with  their  whole  body  and  mind,  i.e.,  personally  experi- 


148    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

encing  them.  A  public  demonstration  can  exhibit  only 
the  results,  conveying  no  idea  of  the  enormous  difficul- 
ties body  and  mind  encounter  in  combating  nervous 
resistances,  and  in  performing  their  rhythmic  functions 
in  calm  and  concentration. 

But,  apart  from  its  general  bearing  on  the  human 
organism,  eurhythmies  exercises  a  further  influence  on 
the  art  of  music  itself — an  influence  that  will  assume  a 
definite  shape  only  when  creative  artists  of  all  kinds 
have  thoroughly  assimilated  its  principles,  put  them 
into  practice,  and  extended  their  scope.  ...  At  the 
same  time,  fifteen  years  of  assiduous  research  have 
accumulated  a  sufficient  amount  of  evidence  of  the 
potential  creative  powers  (from  the  strictly  musical 
point  of  view)  of  the  method  to  justify  the  publication 
of  its  principles.  It  would  require  a  whole  volume  to 
expound  the  detailed  processes  of  our  experiments,  and 
the  concatenation  and  association  of  ideas  which  they 
have  brought  to  light,  and  it  is  to  be  feared  that  a  sum- 
mary exposition  of  certain  of  our  claims  will  appeal  to 
some  minds  as  mere  amiable  paradoxes.  We  are  con- 
fident, however,  that  others,  better  trained,  will  im- 
mediately grasp  the  essentials  of  our  system,  and  it  is 
to  them  that  we  dedicate  these  suggestions  which  only 
time  can  fully  justify. 

In  no  other  system  is  rhythm  treated  with  the  peda- 
gogic care  accorded  to  other  branches  of  musical  science. 
Berlioz,  in  a  too-little-read  chapter,  deplores  the  omis- 
sion from  conservatoire  programmes,  of  special  classes 
in  rhythm,  and  indicates  the  numerous  researches  that 
might  be  undertaken,  and  the  profound  studies  to 


Eurhythmies  H9 

which  a  musician  should  devote  himself,  in  this  totally 
unexplored  region  of  musical  movement  and  dynamics. 
He,  however,  neglected  to  place  musical  rhythm,  and 
to  give  a  clear  idea  of  the  part  it  plays  in  musical 
composition.  We  can  judge  a  work  of  architecture  only 
in  relation  to  the  space  in  which  it  is  constructed ;  and, 
similarly,  musical  rhythms  can  be  appreciated  only  in  re- 
lation to  the  atmosphere  and  space  in  which  they  move. 
In  other  words,  musical  rhythm  can  be  appreciated  only 
in  relation  to  silence  and  immobility.  Study  the  condi- 
tions of  silence  and  you  at  once  create  the  necessity — 
from  the  human  as  from  the  aesthetic  point  of  view — 
of  furnishing  it  with  its  natural  counterpoise — sound 
— which,  in  breaking  it,  sets  in  relief  its  enormous  recu- 
perative, and,  consequently,  emotional  capacities.  Mu- 
sical rhythmics  is  the  art  of  establishing  due  proportion 
between  sound  movement  and  static  silence,  of  oppos- 
ing them,  and  of  preparing  for  the  one  by  means  of  the 
other,  according  to  the  laws  of  contrast  and  balance  on 
which  all  style  depends;  according  to  the  nuances  of 
time  and  dynamics  that  constitute  the  individuality, 
and  the  nuances  of  tone,  pitch,  and  intensity  of  sound 
which  create  in  music  that  higher  element  of  a  mysti- 
cal and  impersonal  nature,  that  connects  the  individual 
with  the  universe.  A  rest  in  music  is  simply  an  inter- 
ruption of  the  sound,  or  a  transference  into  the  region 
of  internal  hearing  of  phenomena  of  external  hearing.1 
Unfortunately,  the  ambition  of  most  of  our  present-day 
musicians  would  seem  to  be  to  annihilate  silence  in 
sound;  and  a  regeneration  of  the  art  of  music  will 

1  The  rest,  while  devoid  of  movement,  is  by  no  means  devoid  of  life. 
(See  Chapter  VI,  page  125.) 


150    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

largely  depend  on  the  place  our  future  geniuses  will 
assign  to  "rests"  in  the  architecture  of  rhythm.  The 
realisation  of  the  possibilities  of  the  infinite  variety  of 
time-durations  is  also  in  an  embryonic  stage,  and  an 
inexhaustible  source  of  new  emotions  will  enrich  the 
art  of  musical  expression  once  its  scope,  at  present  lim- 
ited to  the  employment  of  harmonic,  contrapuntal,  and 
orchestral  nuances,  is  extended  to  include  all  the  new 
emotional  resources  contributed  by  nuances  of  sound- 
duration.  All  art  is  based  on  contrast.  An  accelerando 
or  ritardando  attains  vitality  only  by  contrast  with 
the  normal  tempo.  Nuances  of  time  exercise  an  irresist- 
ible and  inevitable  influence  both  on  melody  and  har- 
mony; and  the  development  of  the  latter  will  depend 
not  only  on  the  extent  to  which  musicians  of  the  future 
concern  themselves  with  agogic  and  dynamic  varia- 
tions, but  also  on  the  direct  influence  of  human  emo- 
tions on  durations  of  sounds,  of  beats,  and  of  bars — on 
the  reciprocal  relations  of  these,  and  on  their  contrasts 
with  the  higher  and  inexorable  serenity  of  silence. 

New  Notation  of  Musical  Time-values. — Before  treating 
of  the  relations  of  time- values,  it  will  be  convenient  to  es- 
tablish certain  new  forms  of  writing  these.  Long  notes  in 
compound  time  have  up  to  the  present  been  recorded  by 
means  of  a  slur  between  two  or  more  notes  of  ordinary 
duration  (e.g.  9/8  =  ^ .  J .,  or  15/8  =  &  •  *  •  ).,  In  in- 
troducing bars  of  5,  7,  and  8  beats,  also  unequal  beats 
and  rhythms  in  which  agogic  nuances  of  a  highly  subtle 
and  delicate  nature  are  obtained  by  successions  of  dif- 
ferent and  varied  time  values,  the  necessity  arises  of 
amending  our  system  of  musical  notation  with  a  view 


Eurhythmies  is1 

to  recording,  no  matter  what  gradations  of  time,  by 
reference  to  a  single  fixed  symbol.  The  following  is 
suggested :  as  a  dot  after  a  note  (o  • )  prolongs  the  latter 
by  half  its  value,  two  dots,  one  on  top  of  the  other  (o  j) 
shall  be  taken  to  prolong  it  by  a  quarter  of  its  value,  and 
three  («>•)  by  an  eighth  of  its  value.  (See  Appendix, 
Ex.  i.) 

Time  Signatures. — We  propose  a  new  method  of  indi- 
cating the  time  of  a  piece  at  the  beginning,  or  changes 
in  the  course  of  its  development.  In  many  cases  the 
present  signatures  are  neither  clear  nor  consistent.  In 
indicating  a  -f-  bar  the  figure  3  denotes  the  number  of 
beats,  and  the  4  the  duration  of  each  beat ;  but  in  writ- 
ing •£  the  figure  6,  instead  of  denoting  the  number  of 
beats,  denotes  their  sub-divisions,  etc.  It  would  be  pre- 
ferable to  utilise  the  first  number  to  indicate  consistently 
the  number  of  beats,  and  to  denote  the  duration  of  each 
beat  by  the  symbol  corresponding  to  that  duration. 
(See  Appendix,  Ex.  2.) 

Alternating  Bars. — There  is  no  reason  to  insist  upon 
regular  bar-lengths  throughout  an  entire  piece.  In  most 
folk-songs  the  melody  is  subject  to  irregularities  of  meas- 
ure. It  is  only  in  the  conventional  and  classical  works  of 
the  last  two  or  three  centuries  that  we  find  a  systematic 
division  into  regular  bars.  Far  be  it  from  us  to  object  to 
this  classical  regularity  of  bar- time,  but,  seeing  that  every 
irregularity  in  a  work  of  art  must  be  the  product  of  an 
emotion,  we  suggest  that  the  question  of  the  employ- 
ment of  irregular  bars  should  be  the  subject  of  special 
analysis  on  the  part  of  every  musician.  We  have  set 


i52    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

out  briefly  the  divers  causes  of  an  emotional  nature 
that  may  justify  the  exceptional  use  of  irregular  bars 
in  the  most  scientifically  constructed  music.  (See  Ap- 
pendix, Ex.  3.) 

The  Coincidence  of  Metre  and  Harmony. — Every 
change  of  time  or  rhythm  calls  for  modifications  in  the 
harmony.  Metre  and  harmony  have  a  reciprocal  influ- 
ence on  each  other,  and  a  succession  of  notes  scanned 
in  threes  requires  a  different  harmonisation  from  one 
scanned  in  fours.  The  same  sounds  may  be  treated 
either  as  integral  parts  of  the  harmony  or  as  unessential 
notes,  according  to  the  metre.  And  the  resulting  vari- 
ations of  harmonisation,  apart  from  their  metrical  sig- 
nificance, constitute  an  excellent  exercise  for  the  student 
of  harmony.  (See  Appendix,  Ex.  4.) 

Anacrusis  and  Phrasing. — The  unity  of  a  musical 
phrase  depends  not  only  on  the  shape  of  its  melody, 
but  also  on  the  logical  use  of  its  rhythmic  elements. 
If  we  closely  analyse  any  classical  work,  we  shall  find 
that  the  impression  of  order  which  it  conveys  is  due  to 
the  fact  that  no  element  of  form  alien  to  the  main  idea, 
which  is  the  product  of  a  general  emotion,  is  allowed  to 
enter  other  than  as  a  contrast  to  the  elementary  rhythm, 
on  which  the  initial  theme  is  based.  Mathis  Lussy,  one 
of  the  pioneers  in  the  study  of  the  physiology  of  rhythm, 
has  written  a  book  wholly  devoted  to  anacrusis,  which 
every  musician  has  read  or  should  read.1  This  is  not 
the  place  to  insist  on  the  importance  of  the  anacrusis 

IL'Anacrouse,  by  Mathis  Lussy  (Heugel,  £diteur,  2  bis,  Rue  Vivi- 
enne,  Paris). 


Eurhythmies  153 

in  musical  phrasing.  An  analysis  of  the  elements  con- 
stituting a  very  simple  rhythm  (see  Appendix,  Ex.  5) 
will,  however,  indicate  the  profound  modifications 
in  the  plastic  aspect  of  a  rhythm,  and  in  its  influ- 
ence on  the  sound  of  that  rhythm,  introduced  by  an 
anacrusis. 


Contrasts  of  Activity  and  Repose. — Having  established 
the  relations  and  manner  of  combination  of  the  divers 
elements  of  a  rhythm,  we  must  next  show  how — by  the 
repetition  of  rhythms,  alternating  either  with  rests  (con- 
trasts of  activity  and  repose)  or  with  the  opposition  of 
different  rhythms — one  achieves  the  logical  construction 
of  musical  phrases. 

All  art  is  based  on  contrasts,  on  antitheses.  Picto- 
rial art  depends  on  contrasts  of  light  and  shade,  on 
contrasts  and  shades  of  colour.  The  art  of  architecture 
consists  of  contrasts  of  lines  and  plastic  material.  In 
music,  the  simple  development  of  primordial  rhythmic 
elements  produces  an  effect  of  monotony.  After  every 
form  of  activity,  our  human  nature  requires  to  recuper- 
ate by  resting  or  changing  the  nature  of  its  movement. 
To  study  the  nature  of  contrasts — the  nuances  of  ac- 
tivity and  of  its  antitheses,  and  of  their  carefully  bal- 
anced manifestations,  and  the  harmony  of  opposing 
movements  in  the  individual  under  the  influence  of 
feelings  and  sensations — is  to  surprise  the  secrets  of 
sentient  and  sensitive  life  itself.  (See  Appendix,  Ex.  6.) 

We  have  now  shown  the  fundamental  laws  according 
to  which  balance  may  be  established  between  the  dif- 


154    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

ferent  elements  of  a  rhythm — between  a  rhythm,  its 
repetition,  and  contrasts  of  silence  or  counter-activity. 
There  remains  for  us  to  trace  the  results  of  our  system 
in  so  far  as  they  involve  the  introduction  in  logical  se- 
quence of  the  elements  of  a  dynamic  and  agogic  order. 
These  are  the  direct  product  of  spontaneous  emotion, 
creating  individual  life  in  the  social  order  and  diversity 
in  unity. 

Let  us  treat  first  of  the  irregularity  of  beats,  and 
endeavour  to  show  how,  once  the  alternation  of  uneven 
bars  is  admitted,  we  are  led,  in  attempting  to  combine 
two  such  measures  so  as  to  form  what  we  may  call  a 
compound  measure,  to  originate  a  new  means  of  ex- 
pression :  unequal  beats. 

Unequal  Beats. — Regular  compound  bars  are  produced 
by  the  grouping  at  double  or  triple  speed  of  regular  bars. 
Just  as  we  may  vary  these  by  introducing  uneven  bars, 
so  uneven  groupings  of  notes  of  short  duration  may  be 
formed.  These  will  produce  at  first  sight  an  impression 
of  irregularity.  But  their  conscious  and  persistent  repe- 
tition will  create  a  new  regularity  and  symmetry  which 
will  prevent  their  compromising  the  unity  of  the  metre. 
Incidentally,  this  manner  of  grouping  exists  in  embryo 
in  the  alternating  accentuations  of  six  quavers  in  | 
and  £  times.  (See  Appendix,  Ex.  7.) 

Many  musicians  fear  that  these  disparities  and  irregu- 
larities may  prejudice  unity  of  style,  by  producing 
abrupt  and  jerky  phrases  and  rhythms.  It  is,  however, 
an  established  fact  that  every  series  of  uneven  time- 
values  repeated  at  regular  intervals  gives  an  impression 


Eurhythmies  155 

of  regularity,  in  the  same  way  that  the  twelve-foot 
rhythm,  of  an  alexandrine,  since  Victor  Hugo,  is  re- 
tained intact,  though  those  twelve  feet,  previously  sev- 
erable  only  into  6  and  8,  may  now  be  split  into  sections 
of  three  fours,  four  threes,  six  twos,  and  even  into  varia- 
tions of  four  and  eight,  three,  five,  and  four,  etc.  Far 
from  abruptness,  the  style  has  thereby  acquired  a  new 
flexibility.  Exactly  the  same  is  happening  in  music. 
It  is  necessarily  difficult  to  describe  in  words  the  broad 
value  of  this  new  means  of  musical  expression  and 
shading  already  used  by  a  few  musicians  like  Ravel, 
Cyril  Scott,  Stravinsky,  etc.  Those  who  are  impervious 
to  the  psycho-physiological  appeal  of  these  emotional 
irregularities  could  never  be  moved  to  employ  them, 
or — if  they  were,  would  not  be  able  to  employ  them 
naturally.  Education  may,  however,  if  undertaken  in 
time,  repair  all  such  deficiencies.  (See  Appendix,  Ex. 
8.) 

Changes  of  Pace. — The  subdivision  into  three  shorter 
notes  of  an  isolated  beat,  in  a  bar  whose  regular  beats 
are  twofold — or  vice  versa — may  be  adopted  in  the  suc- 
ceeding bars  as  a  regular  subdivision,  and  thus  initiate  a 
quicker  or  slower  pace,  as  the  case  may  be.  That  is  the 
real  meaning  and  purpose  of  the  agogic  nuances  desig- 
nated under  the  approximate  indications  of  un  poco  piil 
lento  or  un  poco  piil  animato;  it  may  also  help  us  to  ap- 
preciate the  so-called  rubato  in  Hungarian  music,  which 
is  not  a  real  rubato,  but  whose  effects  of  contrasted  move- 
ments are  produced  by  the  establishment,  as  time-unit, 
of  neither  the  crotchet  nor  the  quaver,  but  the  semi- 
quaver. (See  Appendix,  Ex.  9.) 


156    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

Rests. — The  rest  in  music  is  the  negative  equivalent  of 
the  sound-duration  that  it  replaces ;  and,  inversely,  sound 
is  the  positive  equivalent  of  the  rest  for  which  it  is  sub- 
stituted. The  art  of  music  might  derive  enormous 
benefit  from  a  new  conception  of  musical  sound  as  con- 
trapuntal to  silence  (rests)  instead  of  as  obliterating  the 
latter,  as  is  the  present  practice.  Actually,  the  maxi- 
mum time  occupied  by  rests  in  the  course  of  a  sym- 
phony lasting  three-quarters  of  an  hour  is  not  more 
than  two  or  three  minutes.  We  smile  at  the  ineptness 
of  a  painter  who  overloads  his  canvas  with  colour,  but 
it  never  occurs  to  us  to  question  the  taste  of  the  com- 
poser in  according  an  infinitesimal  place  to  the  sole 
element  of  contrast  that  can  throw  sound-movement 
into  adequate  relief — the  rest.  A  rest  serves  to  conceal 
preparation  for  succeeding  activities.  The  length  of 
this  preparation  for  future  action  depends  on  the  cause 
of  the  preceding  arrest  of  activity. 

Movement  may  be  suspended — 
(a)  by  sudden  exhaustion ; 
(6)  by  progressive  exhaustion. 

The  interruption,  that  is,  the  rest,  may  be  followed — 

(a)  by  an  immediate  resumption  of  energy  and 

activity; 

(b)  by  a  slow  recuperation  of  energy. 

In  each  of  these  cases,  the  preparation  for  the  rest, 
and  the  resumption  of  movement,  are  of  different  na- 
ture and  speed. 

Through  rests,  music  may  acquire  a  third  dimension — 
length,  breadth,  and  depth  (the  rest,  like  a  note-value, 
penetrates,  so  to  speak,  the  volume  of  the  rhythm). 
Provision  is  made  for  rests  in  every  art,  save  music, 


Eurhythmies  157 

which  alone  pours  itself  out  in  a  constant  flow  of  nerv- 
ous energy,  in  incessant  volubility,  insufficiently  punc- 
tuated for  breathing  purposes.  Imagine  four  persons 
all  talking  vigorously  at  once.  .  .  .  According  to  the 
classic  symphonic  procedure,  there  may  be  an  occa- 
sional lull,  while  one  or  other  of  them  is  silent.  But  there 
will  aways  be  at  least  one  to  continue  the  discussion. 
And  with  what  prolixity  and  self-assurance !  This  shows 
a  fundamentally  false  conception,  the  complete  rest 
forming  one  of  the  most  natural  elements  of  contrast. 
A  rest,  while  deprived  of  movement,  is  by  no  means 
deprived  of  vibration.  .  .  .  While  the  sound  is  ar- 
rested, the  external  rhythm  becomes  internal,  and  con- 
tinues to  vibrate  in  the  hearer's  organism.  Silence  may 
be  more  eloquent  than  speech.  Succeeding  sound,  it 
perpetuates  the  latter  in  the  soul  of  the  auditor — 
whether  in  music,  or  in  conversation.  We  recall 
Moliere's  couplet: 

"  A  sigh,  or  a  blush,  or  a  look  of  despair, 
Or  even  a  silence,  the  heart  may  lay  bare." 

(See  Appendix,  Ex.  10.) 

Twice  and  Three  Times  as  Quickly  and  Slowly. — Un- 
der the  impulse  of  particular  emotions  rhythms  may 
quicken  or  slacken.  Musical  form,  established  on 
sound  traditions,  admits  the  possibility  of  a  double  or 
quadruple,  half  or  quarter,  speed  of  binary  rhythms; 
of  triple  or  sextuple,  third  or  sixth,  speed  of  ternary 
rhythms.  Why  not  double  the  speed  of  ternary,  or 
triple  that  of  binary  rhythms — an  entirely  new  devel- 


158    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

opment  ?  Why  not  halve  the  speed  of  quinary  rhythms, 
quintuple  the  speed  of  binary  rhythms? 

Music  is  composed,  in  Schumann's  phrase,  with  our 
heart's  blood.  Why  be  content  with  such  a  pedantic 
circulation  of  that  blood?  The  circulation  depends  on 
our  nervous  system,  on  our  general  or  particular  emo- 
tional state,  or  temperament,  that  modifies  from  day  to 
day  the  circumstances  of  our  life,  the  acuteness  of  our 
desires,  our  prejudices,  our  revolts,  our  appeasements, 
and  our  submissions.  Is  not  variety  the  essence  of  art  ? 
And  may  not  variety  exist  in  time-values  and  their 
infinite  degrees  as  well  as  in  harmony  and  tone-colour? 
It  may  be  objected  that  a  poet  may  remain  perfectly 
natural  while  conforming  to  the  classical  exigencies  of 
lyric  expression.  Granted;  but  in  poetry,  it  is  a  ques- 
tion of  arranging  words  rhythmically  to  express  pre- 
existent  thoughts,  whereas  in  music  it  is  the  rhythm 
itself,  produced  by  emotion,  that  most  commonly  gives 
birth  and  form  to  the  melodic  idea. 

A  musical  education  should  therefore  encourage  the 
free  development  and  progress  of  rhythm.  Every  aug- 
mentation of  this  faculty,  in  providing  new  media  of 
expression,  will  contribute  to  the  enrichment  of  music 
as  a  whole.  (See  Appendix,  Ex.  n.) 

The  realisation  of  original,  beautiful,  and  finished 
inspirations  demands  an  adequate  organism.  Unfor- 
tunately, too  many  ideas  and  visions  fail  to  attain 
expression  through  lack  of  flexibility  and  mobility  in 
the  exponent.  A  musician,  steeped  in  the  classical 
traditions  of  rhythm  and  measure,  will  never  be  able 
to  avail  himself  of  the  achievements  of  eurhythmies, 


Eurhythmies  159 

until  he  has  assimilated  the  media  of  expression  pro- 
duced by  the  practice  of  one  or  other  system  of  educa- 
tion by  and  in  rhythm.  Exercise  develops  our  organs. 
Musical  educationalists  have  only  to  meet  in  sympathy, 
and  collaborate,  for  the  cause  of  eurhythmies  to  be  won. 
In  twenty  years'  time,  the  new  methods  we  are  advo- 
cating will  have  become  classic.  For  the  time  being 
we  are  up  against  not  only  the  indifference,  but  even 
the  resistance  of  certain  musicians.  These  negative 
spirits — who  disparage  or  denounce  original  works 
without  attempting  to  understand  them — are  often 
mere  "grousers,"  disillusioned  alike  as  to  themselves 
and  their  calling.  Others  scorn  the  new  out  of  venera- 
tion for  the  old.  They,  at  least,  may  be  respected, 
and  even  have  their  uses,  acting  as  signposts  on  the 
road  to  progress,  reminding  pioneers  that  their  work 
can  live  so  long  only  as  it  constitutes  a  logical  evolution 
out  of  past  endeavour.  Eurhythmies  requires  for  its 
ideal  manifestation  the  intimate,  whole-hearted  col- 
laboration of  a  great  pianist,  a  great  singer,  a  great 
master  of  harmony,  a  great  conductor,  and  several  ac- 
complished instrumentalists — one  and  all  devoting  heart 
and  soul  to  their  work.  Durable  artistic  works  are 
not  created  out  of  mere  intuition :  they  demand  a  com- 
plete mastery  of  their  art,  by  the  accumulation  of 
experience  on  experience.  Artists  of  the  present  day 
are  manifestly  deficient  in  feeling  for  simple  time-dura- 
tions and  their  potential  nuances.  They  are  careful  to 
avoid  wrong  notes  and  wrong  harmonies,  but  remain 
blissfully  unconscious  of  correct  time- values.  Has  one 
ever  known  a  critic  protest  against  mistakes  of  this 
sort?  And  yet,  for  musicians  who  have  studied  eu- 


160    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

rhythmics  and  possess  the  time-sense,  the  degrees  of 
time-duration  constitute  a  scale  of  shades  to  be  as 
carefully  followed  as  variations  of  pitch.  Inter  alia,  a 
whole  new  literature  for  the  organ  will  be  produced  once 
organists  have  acquired  this  sense  of  time — that  instru- 
ment being  deprived  of  all  nuances  of  a  tactile  nature. 
Obviously,  a  revolution  in  style  cannot  be  accom- 
plished in  a  day.  Every  style  is  the  product  of  the 
ideas  and  practices  of  the  period.  But  how  are  modern 
ideas  ever  to  take  definite  shape  so  long  as  our  musicians 
refuse  to  discard  the  methods  of  the  past,  to  adopt 
even  the  means  of  attaining  progress ;  while  they  refuse 
even  to  investigate  the  claims  of  those  whose  instinct 
informs  them  of  possibilities  of  expression  hitherto  un- 
thought  of?  Education  by  and  in  rhythm  is  in  effect 
no  more  than  a  collation  and  development  of  the  ideas 
that  are  everywhere  in  the  air.  Thus  unequal  beats, 
unconsciously  employed  by  a  few  of  our  musicians,  are 
in  constant  use  in  the  East.  The  whole  art  of  musical 
expression  may  be  enriched  by  the  new  sensibility 
resulting  from  the  acquisition  of  a  sense  of  time-dura- 
tion and  all  its  nuances.  In  seeking  to  initiate  compos- 
ers of  to-morrow  into  the  logic  of  unequal  bars,  unequal 
beats  three  times  as  fast  and  other  rhythmical  devices, 
our  intention  is  by  no  means  to  influence  them  to  com- 
pose in  a  new  style,  but  merely  to  assure  a  greater 
scope  for  the  expression  of  their  genuine  emotional 
impulses.  Admittedly,  our  illustrations  are  for  the  most 
part  examples  of  irregular  form;  but,  on  the  one  hand, 
irregularity,  as  an  exceptional  device,  will  serve  to  throw 
regularity  into  relief,  and,  on  the  other,  a  succession  of 
irregularities  constitutes,  in  effect,  a  new  form  of  regu- 


Eurhythmies  161 

larity.  The  alternation  of  styles  is  a  powerful  means  of 
musical  expression,  since  in  music,  more  than  in  any 
other  art,  contrast  plays  an  active  part  in  the  structure. 

It  goes  without  saying — we  lay  stress  on  the  repeti- 
tion— that  the  utilisation  of  these  divers  new  rhythmic 
processes  for  purposes  of  musical  composition  will  be 
possible  only  after  a  careful  process  of  assimilation. 
The  initiation  of  musicians,  susceptible  only  to  external 
phenomena,  into  the  harmonic  devices  of  men  like 
Debussy,  Schonberg,  or  Stravinsky,  can  inspire  only 
artificial,  insincere,  and  consequently  inexpressive  pro- 
ductions. Similarly,  the  application  of  the  many  means 
of  modifying  rhythms  by  doubling  and  tripling  the 
speed  or  slowness  of  isolated  beats,  by  dissociations  or 
irregular  groupings  of  sounds,  etc.,  will  produce  only 
illusory  effects  of  virtuosity,  so  long  as  this  new  tech- 
nique is  not  sufficiently  engrained  in  the  composer  as 
to  be  directly  and  unconsciously  subservient  to  his  men- 
tal processes.  It  is  to  be  feared  that  much  water  will 
flow  under  the  bridge  before  our  rhythmic  education 
will  have  sufficiently  penetrated  and  modified  mentali- 
ties and  organisms  for  its  potential  effects  to  be  em- 
ployed with  ease  and  grace.  Our  primary  concern — as 
we  have  said  before — is  that  musicians  trained  in  the 
methods  of  yesterday  should  devote  themselves  to  the 
study  of  those  of  to-morrow.  Not  until  then  will  piano- 
forte masters  realise  the  beneficial  influence  of  educa- 
tion by  and  in  rhythm  on  the  study  of  instrumental 
technique,  and  teachers  of  composition  appreciate  the 
necessity  of  ever  more  closely  co-ordinating  sound  and 
movement — ear,  feeling,  and  temperament. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
MUSIC,  JOY,  AND  THE  SCHOOL  (1915) 

The  school  in  relation  to  society  and  the  family — The  nervous 
system  and  sensibility  in  general — What  is  music? — Various 
musical  pedagogues  realise  their  deficiencies  and  the  need  for 
reform — The  present  curriculum — Essence  of  music — Rhythm 
and  tonality — Personal  rhythmic  experiences  and  mental 
development — What  should  be  taught  in  music  lessons  at  pri- 
mary schools  ? — The  ear  and  temperament — The  joy  of  self- 
knowledge — Joy  and  will-power — Joy  and  the  social  sense — 
Good  habits — Art  and  school  fetes. 


163 


CHAPTER  VIII  To  ALBERT  MALCHB 

MUSIC,  JOY,  AND  THE  SCHOOL  (1915) 

SCHOOL  is  a  preparation  foi  life:  in  other  words,  the 
child,  on  leaving  school,  should  be  in  a  position  not 
only  to  fulfil  the  divers  obligations  of  social  life,  but 
also  to  exercise  his  will  in  his  practical  affairs,  according 
to  his  particular  temperament  and  without  impinging 
on  the  rights  of  others.  And  the  training,  at  school,  of 
his  brain,  body,  will,  and  sensibility,  should  be  under- 
taken simultaneously ;  no  one  of  these  four  indispensable 
factors  being  neglected  in  favour  of  another.  Imagine 
the  horrible,  possible  consequences,  for  example,  of 
developing  body  at  the  expense  of  brain !  And  of  what 
use  is  brain  without  will?  And  again,  must  not  brain 
and  will  combined  remain  ineffectual,  so  long  as  they 
are  not  regulated,  controlled,  and  harmonised  by  moral 
sensibility  ? 

I  contend  that  schools  ignore  the  training  of  sensi- 
bility, with  deplorable  results  on  the  development  of 
character.  It  is — to  say  the  least  of  it — strange  that 
with  the  existing  prevalence  of  neurasthenia,  no  attempt 
is  made  to  direct  the  boundless  desires  arising  from  ill- 
controlled  feelings ;  that,  in  newly  developed  countries, 
where,  for  the  most  part,  will-power  is  concentrated, 
with  a  marked  absence  of  scruple,  on  the  attainment 
of  commercial  success,  educationalists  show  no  anxiety 

165 


166    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

to  awaken  the  moral  sense  of  the  coming  generation, 
while  in  countries  where  too  long  established  traditions 
have  a  cramping  influence  on  the  development  of  indi- 
viduality, no  resort  is  made  to  expedients  for  arousing 
temperament.  And  yet  the  means  are  at  hand  whereby 
the  coming  generation  might  be  trained  to  a  greater 
flexibility  of  spirit,  a  firmer  will-power,  an  intellect 
less  dry  and  exclusive,  more  refined  instincts,  a  richer 
life,  and  a  more  complete  and  profound  comprehension 
of  the  beautiful. 

A  mere  professional  musician  should  perhaps  hesitate 
to  approach  a  problem  of  such  enormous  scope.  So 
many  pedagogues  regard  music  as  a  mere  secondary 
branch  of  knowledge,  entitled  only  to  the  last  and  least 
place  in  the  school  curriculum :  a  poor,  beggarly  subject, 
scarcely  worthy  of  notice.  And  yet  the  greatest  minds 
of  ancient  and  modern  times  have  assigned  to  it  an  edu- 
cational r61e  of  the  highest  significance.  To  the  charge 
of  trespassing  on  the  domain  of  education  proper,  the 
musician  has  only  to  invoke  the  authority  of  Plato  and 
most  of  the  Greek  philosophers.  He  might  likewise  re- 
fer to  Montaigne,  Helvetius,  Locke,  Leibnitz,  Rousseau, 
Goethe,  and  Schiller,  for  evidence  that  every  healthy 
educational  system — that  is,  every  system  based  on  the 
intimately  reciprocal  reaction  of  body  and  mind,  feeling 
and  thought — assigns  a  pre-eminent  place  to  music  and 
the  arts  subservient  to  it. 

The  fact  that,  in  our  schools  not  more  than  one  or 
two  hours  a  week  are  devoted  to  music,  goes  far  to 
show  that  the  word  "music"  has  acquired  an  entirely 
new  significance  in  our  own  educational  system :  it  has 
come  to  stand  for  the  mechanical  production,  or,  rather, 


Music,  Joy,  and  the  School        167 

reproduction  of  sounds — a  practice  that  depends  ex- 
clusively on  imitation,  and  the  end  and  aim  of  which  is 
to  cram  the  child's  mind  with  a  certain  number  of  sen- 
timental tunes  of  the  stock  pattern.  This  certainly  is 
a  conception  of  music  very  different  from  that  associ- 
ated with  the  great  names  mentioned  above.  For  these 
masters  music  represented  a  sort  of  compromise  be- 
tween inspiraton  and  form,  the  art  of  self-expression 
by  personal  rhythm. 

Far  be  it  from  us  to  bring  charges  against  any  one. 
We  have  no  desire,  in  freely  expressing  our  profound 
convictions,  to  offend  a  host  of  educationalists,  many 
of  whom,  incidentally,  are  entirely  at  one  with  us  in 
the  matter.  These,  we  believe,  hold,  as  we  do,  that  in 
many  cases  the  relegation  of  music  to  the  background 
of  the  school  curriculum  is  due  to  lack  of  musical 
knowledge  on  the  part  of  the  teaching  staff.  It  is  grati- 
fying to  us  to  know  that  a  considerable  number  of 
members  of  the  teaching  profession  recognise  the  inade- 
quacy of  their  education  in  music,  and  declare  that, 
themselves  never  having  received  a  good  musical  edu- 
cation, they  are  unable  to  bestow  such  on  others.  It 
is  beyond  dispute  that,  at  the  present  time,  there  is, 
almost  from  all  sides,  an  urgent  call  for  the  reform  of 
our  musical  education.  Yet  the  greatest  confusion  pre- 
vails as  to  the  means  of  effecting  this  reform;  other- 
wise it  would  be  simply  unaccountable  that,  despite 
the  protests  of  all  musicians,  not  music,  but  a  mere 
imitation  of  music,  continues  to  be  taught  in  most 
schools.  No  heed  is  paid  to  the  appeals  of  competent 
authorities;  and,  whenever  this  important  question  is 
raised,  the  dullest  dilettantism  appears  to  preside 


168    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

over,  and  too  often  to  have  the  last  word  in,  the 
discussion. 

We  shall  be  told  that  music  occupies  too  modest  a 
place  in  the  school  curriculum  to  admit  of  the  reforms 
urged  by  specialists,  no  matter  how  beneficial  these  may 
appear  to  be.  We  entirely  dissent  from  this  view.  One 
cannot  have  it  both  ways.  If  one's  daughter  complained 
that  the  height  of  her  heels — as  ordained  by  the  current 
fashion — prevented  her  from  walking  properly,  one 
would  reply :  ' '  Then  you  must  scrap  them — unless  you 
prefer  to  make  yourself  ridiculous."  And  to  the  pro- 
posal that  music  lessons,  throughout  the  whole  course 
of  training,  must  be  limited  to  one  hour  a  week,  we 
likewise  reply :  ' '  Rather  abolish  music  altogether  from 
your  time-tables."  One  must  have  time  for  everything 
— for  music  as  for  every  other  branch  of  study.  If  you 
regard  music  as  superfluous,  leave  it  alone;  but  if  you 
attach  importance  to  it,  and  the  conventional  time- 
tables prove  an  obstacle,  remove  the  obstacle. 

Before  everything  else,  one  must  make  sure  that  the 
teaching  of  music  is  worth  while.  And  there  must  be 
no  confusion  as  to  what  is  to  be  understood  by  "music." 
There  are  not  two  classes  of  music;  one  for  adults, 
drawing-rooms,  and  concert-halls,  the  other  for  children 
and  schools.  There  is  only  one  music,  and  the  teaching 
of  it  is  not  so  difficult  a  matter  as  scholastic  authorities 
are  apt  to  suggest  at  their  congresses.  Under  an  ideal 
social  system,  everyone  will  make  it  his  duty  to  dis- 
pense his  art  and  learning  freely  about  him;  every 
true  musician,  both  composer  and  artist,  will  devote 
an  hour  daily  to  the  giving  of  music  lessons  for  the 
benefit  of  the  public; — then,  and  not  till  then,  will  the 


Music,  Joy,  and  the  School        169 

problem  be  solved.  We  have  a  long  way  to  travel 
before  that  point  is  reached.  Yet,  may  we  not  legiti- 
mately ask  of  those  upon  whom  the  whole  musical 
training  of  our  youth  depends,  that  they  shall  at  least 
regard  music  not  as  a  pastime,  but  as  an  art ; — that  they 
shall  treat  it,  and  teach  others  to  treat  it,  with  respect 
if  not  with  love,  as  becoming  to  an  art  that,  in  a  well- 
organised  social  scheme,  should  impress  every  manifes- 
tation of  beauty  with  the  cachet  we  call  style. 

So  long  as  society  is  badly  organised,  so  long  will  man 
be  unable  to  give  thought  to  beauty.  Once  given  the 
opportunity,  he  will  become  a  devotee  of  art,  so  far  as 
his  innate  capacities  will  allow  him. 

It  is  not  the  function  of  education  to  develop  isolated 
individuals.  Its  aim  is  far  removed  and  higher :  nothing 
short  of  the  progressive  development  of  the  race,  the 
perfecting  of  its  thought  and  taste.  One  cannot  cure 
the  disease  of  ignorance  by  increasing  one's  own  know- 
ledge. It  is  a  question  of  taking  precautionary  meas- 
ures for  future  guidance,  of  influencing  the  outlook 
and  disposition  of  the  coming  generation,  and  so  mould- 
ing it  as  to  ensure  the  transmission  to  future  generations 
of  a  strongly  social  instinct  and  more  intense  love  of 
truth. 

1  To  confine  musical  education  to  the  teaching  of  a  few 
patriotic  songs  is  to  give  the  child  "an  idea  of  the  ocean 
by  showing  him  a  drop  of  water  in  a  glass."  A  tune  is 
nothing  other  than  a  feeling  expressed  in  a  particular 
language — music.  What  is  the  use  of  giving  children 
sentences  to  learn  by  heart  in  a  language  of  which  they 
are  ignorant?  This  absurdity  is  enacted  daily  in  our 
schools  in  the  name  of  music  lessons !  We  shall  be  told 


170    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

that  this  is  an  exaggeration,  that  the  lessons  are  not 
confined  to  the  teaching  of  patriotic  airs,  that  children 
are  also  taught  to  read  music  at  sight.  Admitted  that 
in  some  schools  children  actually  are  taught  to  read 
music.  But  how  are  they  taught?  It  is  not  so  much 
the  result  as  the  method  that  matters  (for  our  present 
purposes).  It  is  possible,  by  means  of  certain  mathe- 
matised  and  muscular  processes,  to  contrive  to  read 
music  without  possessing  the  slightest  feeling  for  to- 
nality. But  it  is  precisely  feeling  for  tonality  that 
should  be  created  before  everything — forming,  as  it 
does — apart  from  rhythm — the  whole  essence  of  music. 
Tonality  is  the  vertebral  column  of  harmony.  A 
melody,  deprived  of  all  time  and  rhythm,  may  yet 
express  feeling  by  means  of  gradations  and  contrasts  of 
tone  and  of  modulations.  A  method  that  professes  to 
teach  children  to  read  music,  and  is  not  based  on  the 
study  of  tonality  or  scales — the  relations  between  tones 
and  semitones — must  be  dismissed  as  inadequate.  It 
may  produce  certain  ephemeral  results,  but  it  can 
never  contribute  to  the  musical  progress  and  general 
development  of  the  race.  And  yet,  as  educationalists, 
our  aim  must  be  ever  in  that  direction.  This  alone 
justifies,  in  the  first  instance,  our  forcing  children  to 
attend  school.  In  their  homes,  they  are  surrounded 
by  the  influence  of  tradition;  school  widens  their  hori- 
zon, teaching  them  that  man's  duty  does  not  consist 
in  working  for  the  passing  moment,  but  involves  pre- 
paring for  the  future. 

The  most  important  element  in  music  lessons  should 
be  their  general  effect  of  awakening  in  the  pupil  a  love 
for  the  art;  for  that  purpose  it  is  necessary — passing 


Music,  Joy,  and  the  School 

from  the  general  to  the  particular — to  initiate  him  into 
the  two  primordial  elements  of  music :  rhythm  and  tone. 
Rhythm  is  the  basis  of  all  vital,  scientific,  and  artistic 
phenomena.  It  produces  alike  the  element  of  order 
and  measure  in  movement  and  the  idiosyncracies  of 
execution.  The  study  of  rhythm  conduces  to  the  for- 
mation of  an  individuality  for  all  purposes  of  life — that 
is,  a  manner  of  expressing  oneself  according  to  the 
rhythm  most  natural  and  native  to  one's  being,  which 
again  is  largely  dependent  on  one's  constitution,  blood 
circulation,  and  nervous  system. 

*  Rhythm  is  ignored  in  our  present  educational  system. 
A  vague  attempt  is  made  to  inculcate  some  idea  of 
time,  but  children  leave  school  without  knowing  the 
meaning  of  rhythm.  No  one,  surely,  now  doubts  that 
rhythm  originates  in  the  body  itself !  And  it  is  worth 
noting  that  the  most  gifted  of  all  artistic  peoples,  from 
the  rhythmic  point  of  view — the  Greeks — in  marking 
the  rhythm  of  their  verses,  designated  the  rhythmic 
unit  by  the  term  "foot,"  which  usage  has  passed  into 
most  modern  languages.  And  yet  we  have  long  ceased 
to  scan  verses  by  means  of  bodily  movement,  and 
rhythm  has  become  a  purely  intellectual  conception. 
That  is  why  children  find  it  so  difficult  to  acquire  a 

fc  feeling  for  music  rhythm,  in  reading  at  sight.  And  we 
are  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  deliberately  severing,  for 
purposes  of  school  training,  the  two  fundamental  and 
equally  important  elements  of  music — movement  and 
tone.  To  teach  them  simultaneously  would  confuse 
the  child  and  compromise  the  whole  effect  of  the  train- 
ing. The  child  must  therefore  forego  the  study  and 
analysis  of  keys,  until  he  is  well  practised  in  rhythmic 


172    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

movements.  The  image  of  these  experiences  in  corpor- 
al rhythm,  impressed  and  re-impressed  on  his  mind, 
will  awaken  and  develop  his  rhythmic  consciousness; 
just  as,  later  on,  the  image  of  the  tonal  experiences  of 
the  ear,  likewise  repeatedly  engraved  on  the  memory, 
awakens  and  develops  a  feeling  for  tone.  This  com- 
prises all  that  is  required  in  the  way  of  musical  educa- 
tion at  school. 

We  now  propose  to  put  a  few  simple  questions, 
by  the  replies  to  which,  we  may  judge  whether  the 
present  system  is  worth  preserving,  or  whether  a  reform 
of  musical  education  is  really  necessary. 

1.  Are  you  of  opinion  that  the  child  should  learn 
the  meaning  of  words  before  he  is  taught  to  read  or 
write  them? 

The  answer  will  presumably  be  in  the  affirmative. 

2.  Do  you  believe  that  a  child  will  instinctively 
shun  any  disagreeable  sensation — for  instance,  that 
he   will  keep   away  from   fire   before  he   has   been 
burnt? 

Answer:  No. 

3.  Do  you  believe  that  an  oyster,  encrusted  in  shell, 
can  understand  the  delight  of  a  hare  in  scampering 
over  meadows  and  woods? 

Answer:  No. 

4.  Do  you  believe  that  a  myope  could  follow  with 
the  naked  eye  the  flight  of  an  aeroplane  crossing  the 
frontier? 

Answer:  No. 

5.  Are  you  of  opinion  that  one  can  hear  music  bet- 
ter with  a  good  than  with  a  bad  ear? 

Answer:  Yes. 


Music,  Joy,  and  the  School        173 

6.  Are  you  of  opinion  that,  by  training,  even  medi- 
ocre faculties  may  be  developed  ? 

Answer:  Yes. 

The  unanimity  of  the  replies  all  intelligent  folk  will 
return  to  these  questions  justifies  us  in  declaring  that 
the  present  system  of  musical  education  should  be  com- 
pletely reformed.  We  must  begin  by  setting  children 
exercises  in  hearing  music;  for,  strange  though  it  may 
seem,  in  very  few  countries  is  this  the  present  procedure ! 

We  must  again  apologise  to  those  of  our  colleagues 
who  have  improvised  hearing-exercises  in  their  particu- 
lar classes.  We  realise  that  many  of  them  share  our 
views,  and  we  are  extremely  gratified.  But  we  are  now 
speaking  of  our  school  syllabus,  according  to  which 
music  lessons  comprise  making  children  hear  what  they 
do  not  understand,  read  what  they  cannot  understand, 
and  write  down  what  they  have  never  learnt  or  felt. 

I  may  be  told  that  in  every  class  there  will  be  found 
some  pupils  who  hear  and  understand  perfectly. 
Granted;  but  they  do  so,  not  as  a  result,  but  in  spite  of 
the  training.  It  does  not  follow,  in  our  opinion,  that 
any  one  who  can  read  music  competently  must  neces- 
sarily be  musical.  A  person  without  any  feeling  for 
music  may  read  with  great  facility,  while  another  may 
read  extremely  badly  and  yet  possess  exceptional  mu- 
sical gifts. 

The  essential  is  that  one  should  have  a  good  ear,  and 
so  be  able  to  appreciate  the  infinite  nuances  of  pitch 
and  of  dynamism  of  sounds,  developments,  and  oppo- 
sitions of  rhythm,  and  contrasts  of  tonality;1  and  that 
musical  training  should  develop  inner  hearing — that  is, 

*  See  Chapter  V,  p.  95. 


i?4    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

the  capacity  for  hearing  music  as  distinctly  mentally 
as  physically.  Every  method  of  teaching  should  aim, 
before  everything  else,  at  awakening  this  capacity. 
We  hold  also  that  it  should  conduce  to  the  development 
of  the  individuality,  and  the  perfecting  of  the  whole 
mechanism  of  thought  and  feeling;  achieving,  in  short, 
the  co-ordination  of  experience  and  memory,  experi- 
ence and  imagination,  the  automatic  and  the  conscious, 
the  conscious  and  the  requisites  of  temperament  and 
fantasy. 

The  training  of  sensibility  and  temperament  should 
precede  that  of  the  ear,  for  rhythm  (a  product  of  the 
balance  of  active  nervous  forces)  is  a  fundamental  ele- 
ment of  music,  as  of  every  other  art,  and,  indeed,  of 
every  vital  manifestation.  And  even  if  his  hearing 
faculties  should  later  prove  insufficient  to  qualify  the 
child  to  pass  for  a  musician,  in  the  ordinary  sense  of 
the  word,  the  training  we  advocate  will  have  served  to 
enable  him,  so  to  speak,  to  enter  into  his  individuality. 
Initiated  into  the  marvellous  mechanism  of  his  body, 
given  to  him  for  consecration  as  a  worthy  dwelling- 
place  for  the  soul — confident  of  achieving  without  effort 
or  preoccupation  any  and  every  movement  suggested 
by  others  or  of  his  own  volition — the  child  will  experi- 
ence a  growing  yearning  to  make  full  use  of  the  abun- 
dant forces  in  his  control.  His  imagination  will  likewise 
develop  as  his  mind,  released  from  all  constraint  and 
nervous  disquietude,  gives  full  rein  to  his  fantasy. 

Functioning  develops  the  organ,  and  the  conscious- 
ness of  organic  functioning  develops  thought.  And  as 
the  child  feels  himself  delivered  from  all  physical  em- 
barrassment and  mental  obsession  of  a  lower  order, 


Music,  Joy,  and  the  School        175 

added  to  the  sense — acquired  by  the  practice  of  com- 
bining his  individual  efforts  with  those  of  the  rest  of 
the  class — of  participation  in  a  collective  movement, 
he  will  conceive  a  profound  joy,  of  an  elevated  charac- 
ter, a  new  factor  in  ethical  progress,  a  new  stimulus  to 
will-power. 

I  call  this  joy  "elevated,"  because  it  will  not  be  based 
on  external  circumstances.  It  will  be  distinct  from 
pleasure,  in  that  it  becomes  a  permanent  condition  of 
the  being,  independent  alike  of  time  and  of  the  events 
that  have  given  rise  to  it;  an  integral  element  of  our 
organism.  It  will  not  necessarily  be  accompanied  by 
laughter,  as  is  gaiety;  it  may  quite  well  make  no  ex- 
ternal display;  it  will  flower  in  the  hidden  recesses  of 
the  ego,  in  the  mysterious  garden  of  the  soul,  where 
the  sap  of  our  individuality  is  secreted,  a  sap  that  can- 
not be  squandered — which  may  be  applied  in  every 
direction,  and  never  exhausted.  Joy  arises  in  the  child 
the  moment  his  faculties  are  liberated  from  any  re- 
straint, and  he  becomes  conscious  of  his  control  over 
them,  and  decides  on  the  direction  in  which  that  con- 
trol shall  be  exercised.  This  joy  is  the  product  of  a 
joint  sense  of  emancipation  and  responsibility,  com- 
prising a  vision  of  our  creative  potentialities,  a  balance 
of  natural  forces,  and  a  rhythmic  harmony  of  desires 
and  powers.1  Germinating  in  the  creative  faculties, 
innate  or  acquired,  this  joy  increases  in  proportion  as 
our  powers  develop  and  our  will  frees  us  from  the 
shackles  that  have  burdened  us  from  birth.  The  gift  of 
self-knowledge,  conferred  on  the  child  by  an  education 

1  "Joy  is  a  soul-force."  .  .  .  "  Joy  illuminates  thought. "  .  .  .  "Joie 
el  Action"  by  Henri  Bois,  Societe  d'edition  de  Toulouse,  1910. 


176    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

calculated  to  cultivate  every  vital  spiritual  and  physi- 
cal faculty,  will  produce  a  sense  of  liberation  and 
independence.  This  self-knowledge  will  mean  that  his 
education  has  effected  a  thorough  co-ordination,  not 
only  of  imagination  and  its  practical  activities,  of  per- 
ceptions and  feelings,  but  also  of  the  different  kinds  of 
impulses  and  emotions.  Who  could  resist  a  feeling  of 
joy  at  acquiring  the  power  of  rapid  association  of  ideas, 
the  capacity  of  more  speedy  and  clearer-sighted  analy- 
sis of  the  motives  of  future  actions,  and  more  distinct 
presentiment  of  the  effects  of  present  ones?  "Joy,"  in 
Bergson's  words,  "is  at  once  heat  and  light."  In  certain 
exceptional  persons  this  light  glows  from  birth.  But 
this  is  not  the  case  with  many  children,  and  it  is  the 
function  of  teachers,  by  care  and  perseverance,  to 
create  in  their  obscure  souls  the  ray  of  joy  which  at  first 
may  glimmer  faintly  and  intermittently,  but  which 
eventually  will  illuminate  and  keep  ablaze  a  whole 
hearth  of  light  and  heat,  ever  increasing  in  warmth, 
lustre,  and  beneficence.  This  light  will  illuminate  not 
only  the  present,  but  the  future.  It  will  guide  humanity 
along  its  present  path  and  to  its  ultimate  destination. 
Not  from  without  do  we  receive  and  assimilate  it: 
it  must  arise  from  within  ourselves,  and  irradiate  from 
the  centre  of  our  being.  We  cannot  contain  it.  Irre- 
sistibly, it  must  spread  its  lustre  upon  those  about  us, 
not  only  those  in  our  immediate  neighbourhood,  but 
upon  apparent  strangers.  Who,  indeed,  possessing  this 
quality  of  radiance,  could  resist  a  yearning  to  exercise 
it  for  the  benefit  of  others?  How  should  even  the  most 
hardened  egoist  be  content  to  keep  to  himself  an  influ- 
ence exuding  with  such  force  and  such  splendid  spon- 


Music,  Joy,  and  the  School        177 

taneity  from  the  springs  of  his  being?  The  more  joy 
we  inherit,  the  more  we  are  tempted  to  impart  it 
among  those  to  whom  it  has  been  denied.  And  so, 
like  the  soldier  of  Marathon,  who  bounded  away,  his 
heart  leaping  with  ecstasy,  to  spread  the  glad  tidings, 
till,  disregarding  and  gradually  exhausting  his  powers, 
he  collapsed  at  the  moment  of  announcing  the  victory, 
but  who  expired  in  the  joy  of  having  accomplished  his 
mission, — so  we,  too,  must  expend  our  forces,  not  only 
in  exulting  over  our  hardly  regained  faculties  and  the 
joy  that  has  come  to  birth  in  us,  but  also  in  freely 
disseminating  this  joy  among  our  comrades. 

And  how  is  this  joy  created  and  nurtured  and  made 
durable  ?  Simply  by  the  realisation  of  our  ambition  to 
utilise  to  the  full  all  that  is  capable  of  utilisation  in  us, 
and  to  master,  by  unceasing  endeavour,  new  proclivi- 
ties producing,  in  their  turn,  subconscious  impressions 
of  such  force,  as  to  burst  forth  from  us,  pervading  our 
whole  environment.  Our  whole  lives  depend  on  habits. 
Our  misfortunes  arise  from  bad,  as  our  joys  from 
good  ones.  The  mere  rectification  by  an  effort  of  will 
of  some  habitual  tendency,  however  insignificant,  will 
serve  to  give  us  the  self-confidence  necessary  for  under- 
takings of  far  greater  scope.  Who  can  achieve  the  little, 
can  achieve  the  great.  Once  the  child  has  planted  his 
foot  firmly  on  the  path  of  progress,  he  will  find  it  com- 
paratively easy  to  keep  a  straight  course,  without  wast- 
ing his  energies.  The  difficulty  is  not  so  much  to 
exercise  powers  as  to  will  such  exercise.  Once  arrived  at 
our  destination,  what  matters  the  time  we  have  taken! 
The  essential  is  that  we  should  have  been  able  to  make 
the  journey,  and  have  known  where  we  were  going. 


178    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

Only  good  habits  have  maintained  us  while  on  the 
march.  The  more  we  cultivate  these,  the  more  our 
power  increases.  Joy  is  attained  with  the  first  step 
towards  progress.  Thenceforward,  it  will  intensify  un- 
ceasingly; rendering  us  capable  of  the  highest  and  most 
unexpected  achievements.  Finally,  combining  with 
our  subconscious  forces,  it  will  take  firm  root,  and,  fol- 
lowing the  inevitable  law  of  life,  bring  forth  buds  and 
fruits  and  flowers. 

It  stands  to  reason  that  the  attainment  of  this  per- 
manent state  of  joy,  at  once  sensorial,  emotional,  and 
intellectual,  must  intensify  the  child's  imaginative  and 
artistic  faculties.  ^Esthetic  emotion  is  a  product  of  the 
refinement  of  the  senses,  susceptibility  of  the  nervous 
system,  and  mental  flexibility.  Whatever  the  child's 
natural  artistic  proclivities,  a  conscientious  study  of 
the  phenomena  of  movement,  both  in  himself  and  in 
nature,  cannot  fail  to  produce  a  more  vivid  compre- 
hension of  art  as  a  whole.  Art  is  compound  at  once  of 
imagination,  reflection,  and  emotion.  Reflection  tem- 
pers and  refines  the  imagination ;  imagination  gives  life 
to  style,  and  emotion  ennobles  and  sensitises  the  pro- 
ducts of  sensation,  reflection,  and  imagination. 

The  question  may  be  asked  whether  it  is  really  worth 
while  to  train  hundreds  of  young  people  in  artistic 
pursuits  for  the  purpose  of  public  performances.  Cer- 
tainly, in  these  troubled  times,  little  thought  is  given 
either  to  art  or  to  the  stage.  But  this  has  been  a  charac- 
teristic of  all  periods  of  abnormal  stress.  Besides, 
artistic  studies  are  not  designed  solely  for  the  training 
of  professional  artists:  they  aim  also  at  forming  a 
public  capable  of  appreciating  artistic  representations, 


Music,  Joy,  and  the  School        179 

of  entering  into  the  spirit  of  them,  and  of  feeling  the 
emotion  they  may  have  served  to  express.  Scholastic 
instruction  is  not  enough.  Training  of  the  senses  and 
mind  alone  can  raise  the  public  taste  to  such  a  pitch 
that,  in  the  ideal  of  Adolphe  Appia  (one  of  the  purest 
artists  of  our  time),  the  public  shall  actively  collaborate 
in  symbolic  and  poetic  spectacles  presented  by  men  of 
genius.  For  my  part,  I  am  convinced  that  education 
by  and  in  rhythm  is  capable  of  awakening  a  feeling  for 
art  in  all  those  who  undertake  it.  That  is  why  I  will 
continue  my  agitation  for  its  introduction  in  our  schools, 
and  for  the  enlightenment  of  our  educationalists  as  to 
the  important  and  decisive  r61e  art  should  play  in 
popular  education. 

So  far  as  pictorial,  architectural,  and  sculptural  art 
is  concerned,  it  is  not  enough  that  there  be  schools 
in  which  the  representation  of  lines,  colour,  light  and 
shade,  relief  and  grouping,  is  taught:  the  students  of 
these  schools  must  be  trained  to  respond  with  their 
whole  being  to  the  rhythmic  movement  that  raises, 
sets,  balances,  harmonises,  and  animates  works  of 
statuary,  architecture,  and  pictorial  art.  Nor  is  it 
enough  to  teach  students  of  our  conservatoires  to  inter- 
pret masterpieces  of  music  with  their  fingers.  Before 
everything,  they  must  be  initiated  into  the  sensations 
that  have  inspired  the  composition  of  these  works,  the 
movement  that  gave  life  to  their  emotions,  and  the 
rhythm  which  has  regulated  and  refined  them.  A 
Bach  fugue  is  a  dead  letter  to  those  who  are  unable  to 
feel  in  themselves  the  conflicts  produced  by  the  counter- 
point, and  the  sense  of  peace  and  harmony  evoked  by 
the  synergies. 


i8o    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

A  true  pedagogue  should  be  at  once  psychologist, 
physiologist,  and  artist.  The  complete  citizen  should 
leave  school  capable  not  only  of  living  normally,  but 
of.  feeling  life.  He  should  be  in  a  position  both  to  create 
and  to  respond  to  the  creations  of  others. 


CHAPTER  IX 

RHYTHM  AND  CREATIVE  IMAGINATION 
(1916) 

The  man  of  genius  and  the  crowd — Futility  of  teaching  rules 
of  construction  and  classification  before  awakening  artistic 
imagination — Technique  and  invention — Temperament  and 
style — Order  and  balance — Methods  and  life — The  individual 
ethic — The  integral  muscular  sense — Irregularity  of  time- 
values — Organisation  of  work. 


181 


CHAPTER  IX 

RHYTHM  AND  CREATIVE  IMAGINATION  (1916) 

INDIVIDUALITY  of  style,  originality  of  technique,  and 
imaginative  power  do  not  of  themselves  constitute  the 
quality  of  genius  in  a  work  of  art.  The  distinction 
between  a  man  of  genius  and  a  man  of  talent  is  that 
the  latter  remains  isolated  from  artists  specialising  in 
branches  of  art  other  than  his  own — isolated,  moreover, 
from  the  common  thought  of  the  people  to  whom  he 
belongs,  even  though  he  be  associated  with  a  school,  or, 
for  that  matter,  the  founder  of  one.  A  genius  is  the 
direct  product  of  a  general  spiritual  and  social  develop- 
ment— the  representative  of  "milieu" — and  his  work 
constitutes  the  spontaneous  expression  of  the  soul  of  a 
race.  His  power  consists  in  uniting  in  one  compre- 
hensive movement  the  individual  movements  of  iso- 
lated minds;  in  grouping  in  a  single  mighty  rhythm 
the  particular  rhythms  of  his  contemporaries.  Often 
enough  the  aesthetic  effects  of  the  man  of  talent  present 
a  more  vivid  appearance  than  those  of  the  creative 
genius:  the  latter  being  less  ostentatious  because  more 
serene,  less  picturesque  because  more  composite.  Too 
many  artists,  in  expressing  complex  emotions,  will  be 
found  to  sacrifice  their  innate  sense  of  form.  Too  many, 
again,  only  possess  a  sense  of  form  from  lack  of  imagi- 
nation. Reasoning  is  so  much  simpler  than  imagining. 

183 


184    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

The  admirable  offices  of  logic  in  concatenating  ideas  are, 
however,  a  poor  substitute  for  the  rapid  processes  of 
spontaneous  emotions,  creative  of  vivid  images,  thrown 
out  haphazard  in  their  violent  course,  forming  in  their 
fortuitous  groupings  ever  new  effects  of  combination. 
No  adequate  attempt  is  made  in  our  schools  to  develop 
children's  imaginative  qualities;  on  the  contrary,  they 
are  suppressed  by  a  continual  insistence  on  analysis, 
co-ordination,  classification,  and  labelling.  In  our  con- 
servatoires, students  are  expected  to  bow  before  the 
hallowed  traditions  and  proprieties  of  technique,  style, 
and  imagination.  Admittedly,  licence  does  not  neces- 
sarily conduce  to  beauty.  Admittedly,  one  of  the 
functions  of  education  is  to  produce  clear  and  or- 
dered mentalities,  trained  in  logic  and  analysis.  But 
let  us  not  set  the  cart  before  the  horse!  What  is  the 
use  of  learning  to  construct  before  you  are  given  ma- 
terial with  which  to  construct — of  knowing  all  about 
classifications  before  you  have  any  ideas  to  classify? 
A  musical  work  without  form,  but  revealing  qualities 
of  passion  and  vitality,  is  surely  superior  to  a  correct 
but  stereotyped  harmonic  exercise!  True  originality 
is  the  product  of  individual  ideas,  not  of  picturesque 
processes  of  expression.  Before  inculcating  the  means 
of  aesthetic  expression,  would  it  not  be  advisable  to  put 
your  future  artist  into  contact  with  life  and  nature, 
encouraging  him  to  study  their  rhythms,  to  absorb 
and  identify  himself  with  them — and  then,  if  you  like, 
to  interpret  them? 

If  it  be  at  all  possible,  on  a  careful  analysis  of  the 
works  of  master  musicians  from  the  point  of  view  of 
phrasing  and  shading,  to  deduce,  from  observation  and 


Rhythm  and  Creative  Imagination  185 

comparison  of  characteristic  passages,  any  general  rules 
of  interpretation,  there  should  yet  be  no  question  of 
attributing  to  these  rules  the  character  of  definite  laws, 
or  of  imposing  them  on  students  as  such.  In  a  great 
number  of  cases,  the  strict  application  of  general 
principles  of  style  will  produce  an  interpretation  of 
the  particular  passage  to  be  phrased,  accurate  in  its 
expression.  But,  where  art  and  feeling  are  concerned, 
accuracy  is  not  enough;  the  artist  must  interpret  music 
in  his  own  way,  guided  by  natural  instinct,  to  which 
he  should  subordinate  his  whole  individuality.  The 
only  law  of  shading  beyond  dispute  is  that  of  contrast. 
This  is  the  foundation  of  all  rules  of  musical  expression. 
But  no  rules  can  compensate  for  lack  of  temperament, 
and  the  master's  first  care  should  be  to  awaken  the 
temperament  of  his  pupils,  to  cultivate  their  aesthetic 
sense,  and  to  develop  their  individual  characteristics 
by  every  means  in  his  power.  He  should  therefore 
be  careful,  in  expounding  a  new  rule,  to  point  out  that 
this  rule  may  be,  in  practice,  subject  to  innumerable 
exceptions,  and  that  an  adequate  musical  interpreta- 
tion is  not  so  much  an  intellectual  as  a  spiritual  matter; 
he  should  invite  his  pupils  to  suggest  other  interpreta- 
tions, to  each  of  which  he  will  accord  a  fair  hearing — 
even  if  it  appears  to  him  wrong — so  as  not  to  discourage 
them,  and  to  preserve  their  predilection  for  individual 
expression.  Undoubtedly  aesthetic  feeling  develops  some- 
what late  in  children,  and  it  is  therefore  indispensable 
to  formulate  certain  general  rules  for  guidance ;  but  the 
master  should  point  out  that  these  rules  may  be  re- 
placed by  others,  and  that  the  interpretation  of  any 
particular  melodic  passage  may  vary  according  to  the 


i86    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

character  of  its  predecessor  and  successor,  in  the  same 
way  as,  in  instrumental  exercises,  the  fingering  of  a 
scale  will  vary  with  the  notes  on  which  it  commences 
and  finishes.  In  short,  the  master  should  teach  his 
pupils  the  art  of  shading  and  phrasing  in  the  same  way 
as  a  professor  of  counterpoint — a  real  artist,  and  not  a 
pedant — would  initiate  his  pupils  into  the  composition 
of  fugues,  while  indicating  that  the  classic  rules  and 
formulas  are  nothing  until  they  are  vitalised  by  artistic 
feeling,  love,  and  pursuit  of  beauty. 

Far  from  me  be  the  desire  to  limit  the  time  given  to 
studies  in  technique,  analysis  of  styles,  and  processes 
of  notation  in  the  time-tables  of  schools  of  music. 
Every  musician  must  be  acquainted  with  the  trade 
secrets  of  his  calling,  and,  before  inventing  for  himself, 
must  have  learnt  to  imitate  and  reproduce.  But  not 
all  invention  is  of  a  creative  nature.  A  sound  education 
should  furnish  the  student  with  the  means  of  extracting 
only  such  parts  of  his  reading  and  analysis  as  will  be 
useful  to  him,  enabling  him  to  strike  out  his  own  path 
instead  of  following  the  beaten  track.  Undoubtedly 
classical  musical  studies  are  indispensable ;  but  too  often 
the  method  of  conducting  them  in  conservatoires  is 
suitable  only  for  those  already  acquainted  with  them, 
and  in  whom  the  master  has  already  awakened  the 
instinct  for  individual  development  and  the  distin- 
guishing of  processes  congenial  to  their  particular  tem- 
peraments. Too  many  imaginative  faculties  are  aroused 
quite  late  in  life,  owing  to  masters  having  demanded 
only  the  execution  of  formulas,  and  encouraged  a  mere 
imitation — first  voluntary,  later  involuntary — of  the 
methods  of  composition  bequeathed  to  us  by  prede- 


Rhythm  and  Creative  Imagination  187 

cessors  of  different  temperament,  instead  of  induc- 
ing instinctive  elementary  researches,  founded  on  the 
consciousness  of  actual  physical  and  emotional  capaci- 
ties. Much  has  been  written  on  the  art  that  will  follow 
the  cessation  of  hostilities,  as  though  the  War  itself  must 
exercise  an  immediate  influence  on  art.  The  determin- 
ing factor  in  any  new  development  of  style  will  be  our 
attitude  after  the  War,  and  the  extent  to  which  we  seek, 
in  the  period  of  reconstruction  and  reparation,  to  react 
from  past  impressions,  and  to  throw  off  every  previous 
constraint,  purifying  ourselves  of  effete  doctrines  and 
automatic  thoughts  and  productions — and  so  becoming 
capable  of  expressing  forcibly,  and  in  an  individual 
manner  (though,  where  necessary,  also  collectively), 
our  new  emotions — freed  from  obsolete  forms  and 
methods  of  education,  and  alive  in  every  limb  to  the 
acute  consciousness  of  the  present,  and  the  foreknow- 
ledge of  the  future. 

One  of  the  first  concerns  of  the  education  of  the  future 
will  have  to  be  the  extrication  of  the  rhythms  congenial 
to  particular  individualities  from  the  influences  tending 
to  restrict  their  free  expression,  and  the  restoration  to 
the  child  of  the  exclusive  control  of  his  temperament. 
A  constant  appeal  will  be  made  to  his  imagination ;  his 
nervous  system  will  have  to  acquire  the  necessary 
flexibility  to  prevent  the  wealth  of  images  issuing 
through  its  agency  from  inducing  a  state  of  hypersen- 
sitiveness.  The  body,  instinct  with  motor  force  at 
high  pressure,  will  have  to  be  prepared  to  execute 
every  behest  of  mind,  and,  after  every  such  execu- 
tion, to  keep  a  sufficient  reserve  of  energy.  Many 
parents  at  present  shrink  from  having  the  creative 


1 88    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

imagination  of  their  children  developed.  They  are 
afraid  of  their  becoming  "artists,"  under  the  impression 
that  it  is  impossible  to  be  an  artist  without  possessing 
a  ' '  kink. ' '  And  if  it  were  ?  Is  not  this  ' '  kink ' '  the  root 
of  all  wisdom?  Artists,  in  their  wanderings  over  un- 
known countries  of  their  own  creation  and  transfigura- 
tion, may  surely  be  pardoned  an  occasional  deviation. 
Their  philistine  brothers  have  no  merit  in  never  losing 
their  way,  since  they  keep  vigorously  and  stolidly  to 
the  beaten  track,  victims — if  they  only  knew  it — of  their 
lack  of  imagination.  And  yet  creative  artists  possess 
qualities  of  memory  and  accuracy  which  would  secure 
them  the  high  regard  of  the  philistines,  were  these  to 
suspect  their  existence.  A  painter,  for  example,  recalls 
every  detail  of  the  images  that  have  arrested  his  eye; 
his  mind  classifies,  assorts,  and  combines  them,  and 
transforms  each  active  element  into  idealised  forms 
charged  with  emotion.  But  the  essential  is  that  his 
work  should  be  grounded  in  feeling.  Too  many  of  us 
are  on  our  guard  against  artistic  emotions,  afraid  of 
falling,  in  following  our  natural  instincts.  Our  peo- 
ple will  only  become  really  artistic  through  an  edu- 
cation in  temperament  and  sensibility.  Grace  and 
naturalness  are  commonly  supposed  to  be  incapable  of 
conscious  acquisition.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  natural 
in  art  is  nearly  always  the  result  of  careful  selection, 
and  a  host  of  eliminations,  sacrifices,  transpositions,  and 
changes  of  place — all  of  which  relate  very  definitely  to 
the  conscious.  The  order,  symmetry,  and  art  of  prepa- 
ration and  balance,  that  constitute  the  harmony  of  a 
work  of  art,  of  preparation  depend  largely  on  the  man- 
ner in  which  the  artist  has  learnt  to  subordinate  each  of 


Rhythm  and  Creative  Imagination  189 

the  rhythmic  elements  of  his  theme  to  a  general  syn- 
thesis and  rhythmic  unity.  Rhythm  is  the  live  essence 
of  feeling,  the  fundamental  impulse  of  a  movement  in 
the  form  impressed  on  it  by  the  first  emotional  reac- 
tion. Elementary  rhythm  requires  the  consonance  of 
each  of  its  subdivisions  to  enable  it  to  retain  its  power 
of  animating  a  continuously  harmonised  movement. 
Rhythm  and  metre  are  the  bases  of  all  art.  "Poems," 
said  Emerson,  "are  a  corrupt  version  of  some  text  in 
nature,  with  which  they  ought  to  be  made  to  tally. 
A  rhyme  in  one  of  our  sonnets  should  not  be  less  pleas- 
ing than  the  iterated  nodes  of  a  sea-shell,  or  the  resem- 
bling difference  of  a  group  of  flowers." 

It  is  always  interesting  to  distinguish  the  personality 
of  an  artist  beneath  the  divers  forms  of  his  creation, 
to  watch  its  modifications  according  to  the  whims  of 
his  aesthetic  instinct,  to  follow  the  successive  experi- 
ences dictated  by  his  temperament.  But  the  human 
value  of  a  work  of  art  does  not  lie  in  its  display  of  origi- 
nality in  manner  and  style :  it  depends  on  the  sincerity 
of  the  pursuit,  and  the  disinterestedness  of  the  love, 
for  beauty  which  it  manifests.  There  is  no  dearth  of 
artists,  whose  sole  motive  is  an  ambition  to  develop 
their  "ego,"  and  who  love  nature  only  in  so  far  as  she 
enables  them  to  express  and  vary  their  personal  fancies. 
The  great  creative  minds,  confronted  with  beauty,  be- 
come oblivious  of  everything  that  does  not  partake 
of  beauty.  They  concentrate  on  expressing  the  emo- 
tion it  calls  forth.  They  humble  themselves  before  it, 
becoming  its  passionate  and  faithful  devotees.  They 
are  prepared  to  sacrifice  themselves  for  it;  they  seek 
ever  to  raise  themselves  to  its  level ;  they  lay  bare  their 


190    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

hearts  for  beauty  to  take  possession  of  them.  What 
are  all  our  methods  and  systems,  what  matter  if  in- 
stincts be  primitive  or  cultured,  what  is  all  technique 
and  science,  without  love — love  for  life  in  beauty,  and 
beauty  in  life  ?  Certainly  there  exist  laws  which  enable 
the  artist  to  furnish  a  perfect  form  for  the  images 
recorded  by  his  intuition ;  there  are  fundamental  prin- 
ciples of  ordination  of  lines,  of  juxtaposition  and  coal- 
escence of  colours  and  sounds,  but  in  the  completed 
work,  nothing  of  all  this  science  should  be  manifest. 
Alone,  the  feeling  of  rhythm — that  is,  the  true,  ideal, 
creative  essence,  the  fundamental  harmony  of  nature — 
should  reveal  itself:  a  direct,  spontaneous,  and  faithful 
reflection  of  Beauty. 

It  is  the  painter's  function  to  diffuse  himself  in  the 
objects  he  sees,  his  works  constituting  an  apparent  ex- 
pansion of  the  intense  curiosity  for  the  rhythms  of  life 
and  nature  that  animates  his  artistic  consciousness. 
This  continual  preoccupation  with  movement  in  picto- 
rial art  should  commend  itself  to  musicians.  Painters 
must  also,  like  them,  acquire  the  art  of  associating  and 
dissociating  movements,  of  accentuating  consonances, 
creating  counterpoint,  treating  human  emotions  sym- 
phonically,  and  selecting  appropriate  gestures  and  at- 
titudes for  their  expression  in  "orchestration." 

"Rhythm  is  everywhere,"  as  all  artists  are  agreed; 
but  this  sacred  principle  must  not  be  allowed  to  remain 
a  mere  statement.  Only  rhythm  can  assure  the  unity 
of  human  faculties  and  constitute  that  ethical  individu- 
ality— if  I  may  be  permitted  the  term — the  possession 
of  which  reveals  our  divers  potentialities,  and  trans- 
forms the  human  organism  into  a  confluence  of  ideas, 


Rhythm  and  Creative  Imagination 

sensations,  and  faculties — a  living  harmony  of  inde- 
pendent entities  voluntarily  united. 

Creative  imagination  in  every  branch  of  art  was 
obsessed  in  the  period  before  the  War,  with  the  research 
for  novel  effects,  completely  out  of  touch  with  normal 
life. — (Or  was  it  that  life  itself  had  so  lost  touch  with  its 
natural  rhythms  that  the  artist  was  no  longer  capable 
of  rhy  thmicising  his  work  realistically  ?)  On  the  rising 
generation  falls  the  duty  of  seeking  to  create  mentali- 
ties, clearer,  more  in  conformity  with  instinct,  and,  at 
the  same  time,  more  disciplined ;  likewise  temperaments 
at  once  richer  in  power  and  more  conscious  of  their 
composition.  Musical  education  of  the  future,  for  in- 
stance, will  no  longer  confine  itself  to  the  laws  of  syntax 
and  vocabularies,  but  will  comprise  the  development 
of  means  of  spontaneous  expression,  and  the  art  of 
combining  and  harmonising  them  by  the  process  of 
elimination  and  selection  known  as  style.  Music  must 
become  once  more  a  living  language,  a  vital  manifesta- 
tion of  thoughts  and  emotions.  And,  for  this  purpose, 
greater  scope  must  be  allowed  in  its  study  for  the 
qualities  of  effusion,  propulsion,  and  repercussion  that 
characterise  total  expression  by  sound. 

Musicians  of  to-morrow  must  try  to  develop  the  art  of 
regulating  planes,  pursuing  lines,  and  determining  and 
controlling  pace.  And  this  development  will  depend  on 
a  new  orientation  that  has  yet  to  be  created,  to  replace 
the  conventional  methods  of  thematic  development 
(killed  for  all  time  by  Debussy)  by  an  architecture 
satisfying  at  once  the  needs  of  emotional  imagination 
and  the  exigencies  of  form.  All  young  painters  to- 
day are  unanimous  in  their  desire  and  resolve  to  dis- 


192    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

card  the  artifices  of  camouflage  decoration  in  favour 
of  all  that  is  unchanging  and  permanent  in  form;  that 
endures  throughout  the  ages  to  harmonise  elements 
rightly  proportioned,  to  select  only  subjects  directly 
inspired  by  emotion,  and  to  retain  only  essential  sen- 
sations completely  and  distinctly  realised. I 

Young  musicians  will  aim  at  the  same  ideal,  concen- 
trating primarily  on  the  control  of  emotions,  on  the 
limitation  of  mere  easy  imitation  of  exceptional,  acci- 
dental, and  decorative  elements,  renouncing  the  effects 
of  mere  virtuosity  that  obscure  the  really  human  pro- 
perty of  conceptions,  and  spiritualising  music  by  every 
possible  means.  They  will  be  unanimous  in  discarding, 
in  order  to  return  to  nature  (i.e.,  to  elementary  emo- 
tions and  simple  expression),  every  development  of 
an  intellectual  and  didactic  order,  and  every  aesthetic 
process  issuing  from  a  momentary  fancy  rather  than 
from  a  deep-seated  sensibility,  varying  in  the  most  na- 
tural, flexible,  and  elastic  manner.  .  .  .  But  these  new 
conceptions  depend  on  a  unification  of  spiritual  and 
corporal  faculties,  that  can  be  achieved  only  by  an 
assiduous  training  in  movements  in  time  and  space, 
and  a  diligent  cultivation  of  the  muscular  sense. 

This  training  alone  can  convey  to  the  mind  a  feeling  for 
time-duration — one  of  the  elements  of  music  most  in- 
timately allied  to  sensibility  (for  only  a  feeling  for  move- 
ment can  reveal  to  us  the  laws  by  which  modifications  in 
the  acuteness  of  sounds  unite  with  modifications  in  their 
time  and  dynamic  force).  Only  the  possession  of  a 
powerful  muscular  sense  can  enable  the  hearer  to  sub- 

1  Vide  the  interesting  work  by  Ozenfant  and  Jeanneret,  Aprls  le 
Cubisme  (edition  des  Commentaires). 


Rhythm  and  Creative  Imagination  193 

stitute  for  the  emotional  state  of  the  moment  a  condi- 
tion that  will  respond  to  the  motor  sensibility  of  the 
composer,  and  only  such  a  sense  can  endow  the  latter  with 
the  capacity  of  expressing  himself  spontaneously,  with- 
out permitting  theories  of  a  literary  or  mathematical 
order  to  trespass  on  the  domain  of  purified  physical 
sensations.  The  hearer  of  a  work  of  music  should  be 
able  to  say :  ' '  That  is  yourself! ' '  But  he  can  only  sense 
this  constitution  of  the  work,  if  it  really  appeals  to  him, 
by  means  of  emotions,  mutually  and  genuinely  experi- 
enced, and  sacrifices  freely  accepted. 

The  muscular  sense  is  at  present  so  imperfectly  de- 
veloped, both  in  the  composer  and  in  the  interpreter, 
that  the  latter — especially  a  pianist — usually  disregards 
the  expressive  potentialities  of  time-duration ;  while  the 
former,  in  many  cases,  is  unconscious  of  the  shortcom- 
ings of  most  of  his  agogic  effects.  In  particular,  rubato 
effects  are  nowadays  so  exaggerated  by  pianoforte  vir- 
tuosi that  the  intimate  relations  subsisting  between 
the  energy  expended  (accentuations)  and  the  changing 
forms  of  the  sounds  (time- values)  are  utterly  distorted. 
The  pianist,  playing  without  orchestral  accompaniment, 
is  apt  to  follow  his  whim  in  modifying  the  sequence 
and  alternation  of  time- values  and  accentuations  that 
constitute  musical  rhythm,  and  by  so  doing  deprives 
himself  of  an  infinite  variety  of  means  of  expression. 
Incessant  vagaries  of  rubato,  compared  with  the  pro- 
cesses of  imagination,  are  as  the  buzzing  of  a  fly  against 
the  window-pane  to  the  soaring  flight  of  an  eagle. 

In  fact,  not  only  the  aesthetic  expression  inherent  in 
nuances  of  time,  as  conceived  by  the  composer,  but 

also  the  dynamic  force  itself,  is  thus  vitiated — nuances 
13 


194    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

of  time  and  energy  being  inseparable.  Vagaries  in  the 
distribution  of  sound-durations  can  only  attain  aesthetic 
value  by  contrast,  at  the  right  moment,  with  an  ordered 
interpretation  scrupulously  observant  of  the  relations 
in  time  between  the  various  sounds — just  as  the  aesthetic 
value  of  a  crescendo  and  a  diminuendo  is  only  established 
by  reference  to  a  piano  or  a  forte,  and  the  emotional 
value  of  a  modulation  depends  on  its  contrast  with  a 
fixed  and  persistent  tonal  state. 

Would  not  the  most  indulgent  of  critics  reprimand 
a  pianist  who  exercised  his  humour  for  fantasy  to  the 
point  of  sprinkling  a  melody  in  C  major  with  profuse 
sharps  and  flats,  "padding"  simple  chords,  or  trans- 
posing minor  into  major  themes?  And  yet  we  could 
name  a  host  of  critics,  including  the  most  exacting,  who 
neither  condemn,  nor  even  mention,  the  complete  dis- 
regard by  most  pianists  of  time  nuances!  This  is  an 
inconsistency  only  explicable  in  the  light  of  the  igno- 
rance of  most  musicians  of  the  physical  laws  which 
govern  agogic  shading.  This  ignorance  is,  fortunately, 
likely  to  be  dispelled  in  the  near  future,  now  that  so 
many  thinking  musicians  are  coming  to  realise  the  im- 
portance of  the  active  and  receptive  functions  of  the 
motor  organism,  and  the  existence  of  natural  laws 
governing  the  relations  between  movement  and  sound — 
the  two  mutually  fundamental  elements  in  the  musical 
expression  of  human  emotions. 

We  are  in  the  habit  of  jotting  down  fleeting  impres- 
sions, of  sketching  instead  of  finishing  compositions, 
of  merely  noting  instead  of  arranging  rhythms.  The 
cult  of  picturesque  details  has  supplanted  that  of  form 
proper.  Educationists  should  bear  in  mind  that, 


Rhythm  and  Creative  Imagination  195 

while  rhythm  plays  a  preponderant  r61e  in  art,  serving 
to  unite  all  manifestations  of  beauty  and  animating 
them  with  the  same  throbbing  life,  it  should  constitute 
a  no  less  important  factor  in  general  education,  co- 
ordinating all  the  spiritual  and  corporal  movements  of 
the  individual,  and  evolving  in  the  latter  a  mental 
state  in  which  the  combined  vibrations  of  desires  and 
powers  are  associated  in  perfect  harmony  and  balance. 
"Only  the  soul  can  guide  the  body,  along  the  path  the 
mind  has  traced  for  it." 


CHAPTER  X 

RHYTHM  AND  GESTURE  IN  MUSIC  DRAMA— 
AND  CRITICISM  (1910-1916) 

THE  INDIVIDUAL  ARTIST 

The  trinity  of  word,  gesture,  and  music — Musicalising  of 
muscles — Stairs  and  inclines — Adolphe  Appia's  method — 
Nuances  of  movements — The  training  of  audiences — Relation 
between  musical  and  corporal  dynamics — Nudity  and  the 
purification  of  bodily  interpretations. 

CRITICISM 

Universal  ignorance  of  the  laws  of  plastic  interpretation — 
Orchestration  of  the  human  body — Conventions  and  inconsis- 
tencies— Vanity  of  impressionistic  judgments — Therdle  of  the 
critic. 

THE  CROWD 

Passion-plays  in  Switzerland  throughout  the  ages — Open- 
air  festivals — The  role  of  the  crowd  in  music  drama — The 
laws  of  collective  gesture — Relations  between  the  crowd  and  the 
individual  artist — Mass  dynamism — The  polyrhythm  of 
crowds — The  training  of  a  chorus — Gesture  and  lighting. 


197 


CHAPTER  X 

RHYTHM  AND  GESTURE  IN  MUSIC  DRAMA — 
AND  CRITICISM   (1910-1916) 

The  Individual  Artist 

SINCE  Richard  Wagner  (following  Gluck)  prescribed 
for  lyric  drama  the  classic  trinity  of  word,  gesture,  and 
music,  and  set  himself  to  define  the  ideal  method  of 
interpreting  his  works,  and,  like  Gretry,  to  lay  the 
foundations  of  a  school  of  lyric-dramatic  art,  the  pub- 
lic, under  the  influence  of  its  critics  and  amateurs,  has 
concluded  that,  to  the  everlasting  glory  of  the  contem- 
porary stage,  sound,  movement,  and  speech  have  been 
definitely  united  in  the  creation  of  an  art-form  analogous 
to  the  Greek  Orchesis,  and  that  all  goes  well  in  the  best 
of  all  possible  worlds. 

It  may  nevertheless  be  worth  while  to  inquire  whether 
the  mere  presence  of  the  three  classic  elements  in  a 
lyric  work  suffices  to  establish  their  unity.  Actually  a 
cursory  analysis  of  modern  lyric  works — including  those 
of  Wagner — must  bring  home  to  the  most  optimistic 
that  the  classic  unity  has  not  been  achieved,  and  is 
incapable  of  achievement  under  existing  conditions  of 
musical  education. 

To  unite  word,  gesture,  and  music,  it  is  not  enough 
that  the  music  should  be  intimately  allied  to  the  word, 

199 


200    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

nor  that  the  word  and  the  gesture  should  correspond. 
It  is  necessary  in  addition  that  physical  movements 
and  sound  movements,  the  musical  and  the  plastic 
elements,  should  be  co-ordinated.  If  we  now  examine 
either  the  works  or  the  productions  of  the  modern 
theatre,  we  shall  find  ourselves  forced  to  admit  that 
this  last  union  has  not  yet  been  effected. 

Just  as  verbal  expression,  the  poetic  interpretation 
of  the  text,  demands  precise  and  definite  gestures,  so 
musical  expression,  constituting  the  atmosphere  of  the 
piece,  exacts  of  the  actor  a  similar  and  absolute  physical 
submission  to  the  rhythm  that  produces  it.  Every 
movement  of  musical  rhythm  should  evoke  in  the  body 
of  the  interpreter  a  corresponding  muscular  movement ; 
every  mood  expressed  in  sound  should  determine  on 
the  stage  an  appropriate  attitude;  every  orchestral 
nuance,  every  crescendo,  diminuendo,  stringendo  or 
rallentando  should  be  impressed  on  the  interpreter  and 
expressed  by  him,  as  occasion  demands.  I  say,  as 
occasion  demands,  because,  naturally,  as  the  purpose 
of  the  text  does  not  require  an  appropriate  gesture  to 
each  word,  so  not  every  musical  rhythm  calls  for  its 
physical  interpretation.  It  is,  however,  essential  that 
it  should  produce  a  mental  attitude,  that  it  should 
develop  in  the  mind  of  the  interpreter  a  particular 
image  that  shall  animate  his  whole  organism,  if  we 
really  wish  to  see  the  ideal  unity  effected — if  we  wish 
to  bring  music  into  the  heart  of  life.  We  have  only  to 
visit  any  of  our  principal  opera  houses  and  study  the 
play  of  the  performers,  while  listening  to  the  orchestra, 
to  perceive  at  once  that  there  exists  a  barrier  between 
the  orchestra  and  the  stage,  and  that  the  orchestral 


Rhythm  and  Gesture  201 

music  acts  as  a  mere  accompaniment  to  the  song  or  to 
the  attitude  of  the  actors,  and  does  not  really  enter 
into  them  and  inspire  their  movements.  The  music 
rises,  swells,  breaks  out  in  grandiose  resonance;  the 
gesture  either  does  not  follow  the  crescendo,  or  does 
not  convey  it  to  the  spectator.  The  music  subsides, 
dies  away,  whispers  and  murmurs  as  in  a  dream — the 
attitude  on  the  stage  reveals  a  muscular  tension  which 
is  fortissimo!  Even  musical  rhythms  that  characterise 
not  soul-movements,  but  simple  motions  of  the  body, 
such  as  walking  or  running  or  sudden  arrests  or  starts, 
are  not  realised  on  the  stage — or  are  realised  incorrectly, 
which  is  worse !  Certainly  there  exist  opera  singers  who 
feel  the  necessity  of  this  union  of  gesture  and  music, 
and  who  endeavour  to  express  rhythms  of  sound  by  mus- 
cular rhythms.  But  they  do  not  succeed  for  want  of  a 
special  training — as  necessary  to  this  end  as  is  a  special 
finger  training  to  enable  a  musician  to  express  himself 
through  the  medium  of  an  instrument.  Not  every 
musician  requires  to  express  music  in  movement,  but 
it  is  obvious  that  an  opera  singer,  to  be  a  complete 
artist,  must  possess  this  faculty  of  "realising"  rhythms 
plastically.  Unfortunately,  if  his  education  is  incom- 
plete, that  of  his  public  is  much  more  so;  that  is  why 
so  many  non-rhythmic  singers  attain  success  in  spite 
of  this  deficiency.  It  will  not  always  be  so;  a  new  point 
of  view  is  already  in  course  of  evolution;  the  study  of 
the  relations  between  time  and  space  is  engaging  the 
attention  of  numerous  aestheticians,  and  the  time  is 
not  far  distant  when  lack  of  rhythm  will  be  counted 
as  serious  a  flaw  in  a  singer's  equipment  as  tonal 
inaccuracy. 


202    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

Before  dedicating  one's  body  to  the  service  of  art, 
it  should  be  deemed  necessary  to  perfect  its  mechanism, 
to  develop  its  capacities,  and  to  correct  its  shortcomings. 
It  is  not  enough  that  these  capacities  function  intui- 
tively, as  is  the  case  with  many  gifted  individuals;  it 
is  necessary  in  addition  that  they  should  be  exercisable 
consciously,  and  not  depend  on  momentary  nervous 
impulses.  Again,  it  is  essential  that  the  nervous  system 
itself  should  be  trained  and  regulated  so  as  to  give  the 
brain  complete  liberty  of  control  over  muscular  move- 
ments. All  movements  of  the  body,  its  gait,  gestures, 
and  attitudes,  should  be  studied  not  only  on  a  flat 
surface,  such  as  the  boards  of  a  stage,  but  on  different 
planes,  on  inclines  of  different  degrees  (where  practic- 
able), and  on  staircases,1  in  such  a  way  that  the  body 
may  familiarise  itself  with  space,  its  plastic  manifesta- 
tions adapting  themselves  to  the  material  conditions 
dictated  by  the  action,  and  eventually  imposing  on  the 
painter  a  new  conception  and  treatment  of  scenery. 
Finally  the  organism  should  become  an  instrument  of 
musical  resonance  so  vibrant  and  of  such  susceptibility 
as  to  be  capable  of  spontaneously  transposing  into 

xAdolphe  Appia  first  gave  me  the  idea  of  evolutions  on  a  staircase 
and  the  Russian  painter  Salzmann  designed  for  my  exercise  a  highly 
ingenious  set  of  units,  whereby  a  whole  series  of  practicable  staircases 
could  easily  and  speedily  be  constructed.  Distinguished  producers 
such  as  Reinhardt,  Granville  Barker,  and  Gamier  came  later  to  adopt 
our  methods,  but  only  Gamier  appears  to  me  to  have  utilised  them  to 
really  vital  effect.  Nowadays  one  sees  staircases  on  all  stages,  but 
the  producers  do  not  know  what  to  do  with  them,  nor  can  the  actors 
either  perform  or  repose  on  them  with  ease.  Appia  wrote:  "Stairs  by 
their  straight  lines  and  breaks  maintain  the  necessary  contrast  between 
the  curves  of  the  body  and  the  sinuous  lines  of  its  evolutions;  their 
practical  uses  offering  at  the  same  time  distinct  facilities  of  expression." 


Rhythm  and  Gesture  203 

attitude  and  gestures  all  the  aesthetic  emotions  pro- 
voked by  sound  rhythms. 

In  his  Mise  en  scene  du  drome  Wagnerien  (pp. 
44-45)  Adolphe  Appia,  prophesying  in  1895  the  col- 
laboration of  rhythm  and  drama,  quotes  two  significant 
details  from  the  representation  of  the  third  act,  of  the 
Walkyrie. 

"Wotan  arrives  in  a  terrific  cyclone  that  subsides 
as  he  reaches  the  summit.  The  Walkyries  have  con- 
cealed Brunnhilde  among  them  and  seek  to  appease 
their  father.  The  musical  passage  is  quite  short,  but 
the  incomparable  polyphony  is  meant  to  be  accompan- 
ied by  an  action  that  impresses  it  on  the  eye,  without, 
however,  obliging  the  maidens  to  separate  from  each 
other.  It  is  effected  by  a  light  counterpoint,  in  which 
the  successive  entries  mark  the  timid  supplication  in  a 
highly  individual  manner;  each  Walkyrie  should  time 
her  entry  a  beat  in  advance  of  the  score.  The  last  bars 
expand  irresistibly;  the  vocalists  should  interlace  their 
movements  corresponding  to  the  score,  and,  by  way  of 
further  accentuation,  the  whole  group  extended  before 
Wotan  might  straighten  itself  and  recoil  on  the  hard  chord 
that  recalls  the  abrupt  voice  of  the  God.  One  cannot, 
in  this  scene,  carry  too  far  the  minute  search  for  new 
musical  developments." 

It  would  appear  to  be  easy  to  train  artists  according 
to  these  indications;  but  this  is  not  the  case.  The 
clearest  comprehension  by  the  actors  of  these  directions 
by  no  means  assures  their  execution.  To  make  with 
apparent  ease  a  step  in  advance  of  a  particular  note, 
he  must  have  gone  through  a  whole  series  of  exercises 
in  advancing  and  halting,  aiming  at  the  acquirement  of 


204    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

the  various  kinds  of  balance  of  the  body,  pose  of  the 
feet,  and  muscular  innervation  of  the  legs  necessary  to 
interpret  the  different  sound  tempi  in  all  their  shades. 
The  gait  of  the  actor  must  accord  with  the  musical 
movement,  and  the  rhythm  of  his  steps  must  fall  quite 
naturally  into  the  rhythm  of  the  sounds.  The  most 
perfect  musician  may  be  absolutely  incapable  of  effect- 
ing a  rallentando,  accelerando,  or  rubato  in  walking, 
corresponding  to  the  acceleration,  abatements,  and 
fluctuations  of  his  musical  imagination.  Nor  would  he 
be  able  to  change  his  attitude  in  a  given  time — say, 
over  a  crotchet  or  a  quaver — without  having  studied 
plastic  anacrusis,  that  is,  the  laws  of  preparation  of 
movements.  He  must  next  practise  movements  of  the 
arm  in  all  degrees  of  rapidity  and  energy,  first  simulta- 
neous and  corresponding  movements  of  both  arms, 
then  the  same  movements  executed  by  the  arms  in 
different  directions — finally  different  movements  simul- 
taneously, one  arm,  for  example,  making  an  angular, 
the  other  a  circular,  movement.  In  this  form  of  exer- 
cise, movements  of  apparent  simplicity  prove  exceed- 
ingly difficult  to  execute.  To  raise  one  arm  in  sixteen 
beats  of  an  adagio  while  half  lowering  the  other  in  the 
same  space  of  time  requires  a  perfect  acquaintance 
with  every  shade  of  muscular  innervation  and,  in  addi- 
tion, considerable  practice,  before  this  double  action 
will  convey  an  impression  of  naturalness  and  ease. 
To  one  practised  in  the  correlating  of  movements  in 
time  and  space,  the  sight  of  a  gesture  completed  before 
or  after  the  beat  of  a  musical  rhythm  produces  a  posi- 
tive aesthetic  pain.  It  is  not  until  the  arms  are  capable 
of  being  moved  with  complete  freedom  that  their 


Rhythm  and  Gesture  205 

movements  can  be  combined  with  leg  movements.  An 
infinite  number  of  combined  exercises  have  been  con- 
trived, the  study  of  which  must  inevitably  produce 
harmony  of  all  habitual  movements,  thereby  conducing 
to  grace,  which  is  only  another  word  for  ease  and  natu- 
ralness, and  which  is  attainable  only  through  knowledge 
of  our  physical  possibilities.  The  factor  co-ordinating 
arm  and  leg  movement  is  respiration.  Singers  confine 
their  use  of  the  diaphragm  to  the  production  of  the 
necessary  breath  for  the  larynx,  and  yet  breathing  is 
not  only  an  invaluable  medium  of  physical  balance,  but, 
in  addition,  a  highly  powerful  agent  of  dramatic  ex- 
pression, and  apart  from  the  rapid  movements  of  costal 
respiration  by  which  our  lyric  artists  so  frequently 
express  their  emotion  in  love  scenes,  there  exist  a  whole 
host  of  other  movements  of  the  torso,  produced  by  the 
breath,  complementary  to  the  movements  of  arms, 
legs,  and  head.  The  latter  should  also  be  submitted  to 
special  exercises,  all  the  more  so  since  vocal  exercises 
by  no  means  encourage  suppleness  in  the  neck.  .  .  . 
But  the  mastery  of  body  movements  constitutes  a  mere 
virtuosity,  unless  those  movements  are  employed  to 
help  out  facial  expression.  The  same  gesture  may 
express  ten  different  sentiments  according  as  the  eye 
gives  the  clue.  The  correlating  of  body  movements 
with  facial  play  must,  then,,  also  be  made  the  subject 
of  a  special  training;  but  this  should  not  be  under- 
taken until  repeated  exercises  have  brought  music  into 
direct  communication  with  the  organism — vibrations 
of  sound  evoking  analogous  vibrations  in  the  tissues 
and  the  nervous  system,  which  the  body,  susceptible 
of  musical  emotions,  has  learned  to  transform  into 


206    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

plastic  emotions  and  to  realise  aesthetically.  The 
mechanism  of  the  body  is  nothing  until  it  has  become 
subservient  to  the  sensibilities,  the  development  of 
which  a  diligent  study  of  the  translation  of  musical 
rhythms  into  physical  movements  is  almost  certain  to 
promote. 

As  soon  as  interpreters  have  learnt  to  express  with 
their  bodies  every  nuance  of  the  orchestra,  it  must 
inevitably  follow,  that,  after  some  hesitation  and  mis- 
understanding, the  public  will  come  to  appreciate  the 
lyrico-plastic  unity  thereby  achieved,  and  will  feel  the 
necessity  of  initiating  itself  into  this  new  medium  of 
interpretation  by  an  identical  training.  The  time  is 
near  when  the,  as  it  were,  antinomy  that  subsists  to- 
day between  plastic  rhythms  and  sound  rhythms  will 
shock  an  audience  in  the  same  way  as  a  false  note  in  a 
chorus,  or  a  wrong  beat  in  an  orchestra.  A  new  men- 
tality will  evolve,  the  old  tastes  will  change,  the  tradi- 
tional conception  of  scenic  exigencies  will  be  modified, 
and  eventually  people  will  wonder  how  it  was  ever 
possible  that  such  a  divorce  should  have  been  allowed 
to  subsist  between  the  stage  and  the  orchestra,  between 
musical  conceptions  and  physical  realisations.  Com- 
posers will  then  abandon  current  dramatic  forms  to 
adopt  others  more  conformable  to  truth  and  nature. 
They  will  no  longer  permit  their  imaginations  to  give 
to  gestural  and  ocular  expressions  and  attitudes  a 
musical  form  of  which  the  rhythm  and  the  movement 
are  incapable  of  plastic  realisation.  Custom  has  trained 
them  to  regard  all  music  without  words  as  the  ex- 
pression of  inner  feelings.  Their  imagination  would 


Rhythm  and  Gesture  207 

often  suggest  more  effective  interpretations  if  they 
could  command  a  visual  representation  of  them  in  ges- 
ture and  facial  play,  in  place  of  this  accepted  suppres- 
sion. Muscular  dynamics  must  render  musical  rhythms 
visible,  and  musical  dynamics  plastic  rhythms  musical. 
Gesture  must  define  musical  emotion  and  call  up  its 
image.  And  to  that  end  we  must  educate  our  bodies 
in  rhythm  and  by  rhythm.  It  is  not  necessary  that 
we  should  be  perfectly  formed :  the  essential  is  that  our 
movements  should  be  harmonised,  and  that  our  habit- 
ual motions  should  be  refined;  in  short,  that  we  should 
be  artists.  We  have  all  of  us  muscles,  reason,  and 
volition ;  consequently  we  are  all  equal  before  Rhythm. 
We  must  vocalise  our  movements  and  establish  a  com- 
munion between  them  and  music.  To  that  end  it  is 
necessary  that  we  should  learn  to  know  our  bodies, 
and  that  is  why,  without  sharing  the  views  of  aesthe- 
ticians  who,  in  respect  of  costume,  advocate  complete 
return  to  the  customs  of  Greek  antiquity,  I  myself 
favour  for  my  plastic  studies  a  return  to  quasi-nudity 
when  exercising  in  private.  Nudity  provides  not  only 
a  medium  of  control  indispensable  for  purposes  of 
physical  expression,  but  is  in  addition  an  aesthetic  ele- 
ment inducing  the  respect  for  the  body  that  animated 
the  great  Greek  philosophers.  In  proportion  as  the 
idea  of  sex  subsides  in  the  fervour  of  the  artist,  and  in 
the  passion  for  complete  absorption  in  beauty  and 
truth  of  expression,  so  our  bodies  take  on  new  life,  and 
we  feel  lack  of  respect  for  nudity  to  be  a  sin  against 
the  spirit.  Once  our  operatic  singers  have  learnt  to 
understand  the  intricate  mechanism  of  their  movements 
and  the  intimate  relations  between  their  bodies,  their 


208    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

minds,  their  desires,  and  their  aesthetic  instincts,  they 
will  emancipate  themselves  from  the  prejudices  at 
present  encumbering  them,  thanks  to  their  education 
and  heredity,  and  will  regard  their  bodies  as  mediums 
of  elevation — as  instruments  of  pure  art  and  beauty. 
No  longer  will  the  Philistines  snigger  at  the  sight  of 
Isadora  Duncan  dancing  with  bare  legs.  Thenceforth 
critics  will  have  to  insist  on  the  young  Siegfried  dis- 
carding his  miserable  pink  tights,  and  on  the  Rhine 
Daughters  assuming  the  authentic  garb  of  water- 
sprites.  Purified  by  art,  we  shall  see  in  the  body  the 
collaborator  of  conscience,  an  agent  of  noble  will  and 
pure  imagination,  an  instrument  of  wisdom,  beauty, 
art,  and  truth.  The  interpreter  will  no  longer  seek  art 
and  beauty  outside  himself,  he  will  have  to  induce 
beauty  and  truth  to  descend  into  him,  to  dwell  with 
him,  to  become  an  integral  element  in  his  organism. 
Such  are  the  benefits  I  anticipate  from  the  cult  of 
rhythm,  as  a  result  of  which  authors  and  actors, 
repudiating  the  old  worn  scenic  conventions,  will  re- 
cover the  purity  of  plastic  sensation,  will  ally  in  their 
art  the  sensibility  of  the  musician  with  that  of  the 
sculptor  and  painter,  and  will  free  themselves — thanks 
to  a  real  education,  on  principles  pure  as  nature  and 
truth — from  the  tyranny  of  meaningless  virtuosity, 
lying  gestures,  and  intellectual  perversities. 

Criticism 

The  progress  of  the  art  of  gesture  is  unfortunately 
retarded  by  the  ignorance  of  critics  touching  the  powers 
of  expression  possessed  by  the  human  body.  Certainly 


Rhythm  and  Gesture  209 

it  is  possible  to  appreciate  the  merits  of  a  symphony 
without  being  capable  of  playing  all  the  instruments  of 
the  orchestra — and  to  recognise  the  merit  of  a  singer 
or  pianist  without  having  studied  singing  or  the  piano. 
It  is,  moreover,  true  that  sound  visual,  intellectual,  and 
artistic  faculties  may  make  up  for  want  of  technical 
knowledge,  in  criticising  human  gesture,  whether  indi- 
vidual or  collective.  But  the  opinions  of  people  unin- 
formed as  to  the  multiple  resources  of  the  human  frame 
can  never  have  other  than  a  subjective  value,  and  should 
not  have  the  power  of  influencing  the  education  of  either 
artist  or  spectator.  A  musical  critic  can  admittedly  in- 
terest the  public  in  recording  the  impression  produced  on 
him  by  such  and  such  orchestral  work,  although  he  un- 
derstands only  approximately  the  mechanism  of  each 
instrument — but  he  will  be  unable  to  explain  why  cer- 
tain things  displease  him  without  an  appreciation  of 
the  tone  and  character  of  the  different  agents  of  sound, 
an  acquaintance  with  the  laws  that  regulate  the  art  of 
grouping  instruments,  and  a  knowledge  of  the  essential 
principles  of  musical  construction. 

Human  gesture  and  its  orchestration  conform  to 
elementary  principles  of  nature,  dynamic,  rhythmic, 
and  agogic,  which  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  under- 
stand before  one  is  justified  in  formulating  a  decision 
as  to  their  artistic  worth.  Criticism  of  a  work  or  its 
interpretation,  in  so  far  as  these  are  the  direct  product 
of  emotion  and  temperament,  can  only  be  of  relative 
value.  On  the  other  hand,  that  which  is  the  result  of  in- 
tellectual qualities,  sense  of  form,  intuition  of  dynamic 
or  rhythmic  effects,  can  be  analysed.  But  to  be  in  a 

position  to  analyse  it,  one  must  know  something  of  the 
14 


210    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

matter  in  question.  By  so  much  as  the  subjective 
opinion  of  a  great  creative  artist  interests  us  from  the 
psychological  point  of  view,  by  so  much  the  impressions 
of  a  negative  spirit,  a  critic  who  has  never  made  any 
personal  contribution  to  art,  leave  us  cold.  On  the 
other  hand,  we  can  take  an  interest  in  an  analysis  based 
on  first-hand  knowledge.  Every  human  body  comprises 
more  numerous  potential  orchestral  effects  (concatena- 
tion, juxtaposition,  opposition  of  gestures  and  attitudes, 
and  changes  while  stationary  or  in  step)  than  the  most 
complex  symphonic  body.  To  what  extent,  and  in 
what  manner,  could  and  should  this  human  orchestra 
ally  its  rhythms  to  those  of  the  orchestra  of  sound? 
That  is  the  question  we  have  to  consider. 

No  musical  critic  would  hold  it  right  for  the  clarinets 
to  play  in  a  different  key  from  the  rest  of  the  orchestra, 
or  for  a  pianist  to  execute  his  part  in  a  concerto  in  a 
different  style  from  that  adopted  by  the  instruments 
accompanying  him.  .  .  .  Yet  we  do  not  find  two 
critics  in  a  hundred  commenting  on  the  confusions  of 
style,  time,  phrasing,  and  shading  that  may  persist  be- 
tween the  movements  of  a  corps  de  ballet,  or  of  a  solo 
dancer  professing  to  interpret  a  musical  piece. 

Not  only  is  their  eye  so  accustomed  to  the  regular 
arm  movements,  extended,  contracted,  undulatory, 
and  sinuous,  that  constitute  the  means  of  expression 
possessed  by  ballet  dancers,  that  any  really  vital  ges- 
ture, any  effect  of  dynamic  muscularity  offends  them 
aesthetically;  but  their  minds  have  so  deliberately  ac- 
cepted the  disharmony  between  the  physical  move- 
ments and  the  sound  rhythms,  that  their  ears  positively 
cease  to  listen  to  the  music  once  their  eyes  compel  them 


Rhythm  and  Gesture  211 

to  follow  the  spectacle,  and  vice  versa.  It  seems  to 
them  quite  natural  that  on  the  stage  the  human  body 
should  be  perpetually  trying  to  repudiate  the  laws  of 
gravity,  that  the  ambition  of  the  dancer  should  be  to 
imitate  the  bird,  instead  of  to  transfigure  the  man,  to 
produce  the  picturesque  and  artificial,  instead  of  to  en- 
noble and  refine  the  gestures  of  natural  life.  We  still 
look  back  with  bewilderment  and  regret  to  interpreta- 
tions (quite  pretty  from  the  pictorial  point  of  view)  of 
classical  and  modern  compositions,  applauded  by 
capable  musicians  who  simply  did  not  perceive  the 
abyss  created  by  the  dancers  between  the  orchestral  and 
physical  symphonies.  The  truth  is,  musicians  have  no 
conception  of  the  capacities  of  the  human  body,  and 
neither  their  sight  nor  their  muscular  sense  is  suffi- 
ciently acute  to  warn  them  of  the  errors  of  style  com- 
mitted, and  of  the  nuances  disregarded.  The  trouble  is 
that  so  many  critics,  imagining  themselves  to  possess 
intuitive  knowledge,  consider  physical  movement  of 
such  secondary  importance  as  a  medium  of  artistic 
expression,  that  they  do  not  hesitate  to  hold  forth  ex 
cathedra  on  texts  of  which  they  do  not  even  suspect  the 
meaning !  "  How  few  people,"  said  Vauvenargues,  "are 
capable  of  comprehending  every  side  of  a  question! 
There,  it  seems  to  me,  is  the  most  common  source  of 
human  error." 

Each  time  we  attend  a  display  of  dancing,  we  are 
staggered  by  the  incoherence  of  the  spectators'  opinions, 
and  the  contradictions  of  their  sentiments.  Those  who 
object  in  the  concert  hall  to  the  technical  acrobatics 
of  instruments,  applaud  it  in  the  dancer.  Those  who 
oppose  transcriptions  and  arrangements  of  classical 


Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

pieces,  approve  the  most  horrible  travesties  of  them  as 
performed  by  the  artistes  of  the  ballet.  Those  again 
who  complain  of  the  inadequate  delicacy  of  touch  of 
certain  pianists,  pass,  without  turning  a  hair,  the  crude, 
exaggerated,  and  frantic  gestures  of  opera  singers! 
Others  who  are  dependable  authorities  on  the  pictorial 
or  sculptural  representation  of  the  human  form  go  into 
raptures  over  the  affectations  and  abnormal  disloca- 
tions of  living  and  breathing  bodies.  Finally,  there  are 
critics,  and  these  are  the  worst,  so  perverted  in  taste 
and  steeped  in  the  artifices  of  conventional  choreog- 
raphy, that,  far  from  recognising  the  absurdity  of  these 
displays,  they  remain  impervious  to  the  efforts  of  pro- 
gressive artists  to  reform  the  dance  as  a  simple  and 
natural  expression  of  emotion.  Once  these  professional 
critics  have  written  of  a  dancer  that  he  has  grace,  a 
good  carriage,  balance,  and  temperament,  they  have 
said  everything !  It  never  occurs  to  them  to  consider 
the  degree  of  sympathy  he  has  shown  for  the  musical 
thought  it  was  his  business  to  interpret.  And  yet  as 
much  importance  should  be  attached  to  the  processes  of 
plastic  interpretation  as  to  those  of  musical  execution. 

But  there,  again,  what  divergences  of  opinion  these 
musical  critics  exhibit !  According  as  nature  has  made 
them  "rational,"  "emotional,"  or  "imaginative,"  and 
psychologists  such  as  Dr.  Charles  Odier  can  classify 
them  as  technicians  and  theorists  on  the  one  hand, 
sentimentalists  and  emotionalists  on  the  other  (or 
sub-classify  the  "imaginatives"  as  "rationalists,"  "im- 
pressionists," and  "intuitionists") — the  works  and 
interpretations  are  perceived  and  analysed  by  them 
in  a  hundred  and  one  different  ways.  Fortunately,  the 


Rhythm  and  Gesture  213 

value  of  a  musical  criticism  does  not  depend  on  the 
nature  of  its  conclusions,  but  on  the  simplicity  and 
sincerity  of  the  musician  who  makes  it. 

There  is  no  inferior  art  of  criticism,  but  there  are 
inferior  methods  of  practising  that  art.  Every  man 
who  wishes  to  devote  his  life  to  the  public  appraisement 
of  artistic  works  and  interpretations  should  make  it 
his  business  to  be  well  informed  and  to  move  with  the 
times.  Unfortunately,  too  few  critics  appreciate  the 
importance  of  their  vocation.  Many  of  them  imagine 
that  their  critical  faculties  are  definitely  formed,  and 
that  they  have  nothing  more  to  learn.  Some  apparently 
consider  their  task  to  consist  in  picking  out,  and  ex- 
posing indiscriminately  to  public  ridicule,  defects  in 
the  works  of  all  kinds  presented  to  them.  It  should 
rather  consist  in  trying  to  get  to  the  bottom  of  these 
works  and  considering  to  what  extent  they  may,  in 
spite  of  their  defects,  be  made  to  serve  the  purposes 
of  art.  As  La  Rochefoucauld  put  it,  "a  sensible  per- 
son sees  things  as  they  require  to  be  seen.  He  gives 
them  their  own  value,  and  causes  them  to  exhibit  to 
him  the  side  from  which  they  may  be  viewed  to  best 
advantage.  ..."  There  are  few  such  "sensible 
people"  in  the  realm  of  criticism.  To  say  "such  and 
such  a  piece  pleases  or  displeases  me,"  without  further 
elucidation,  is  the  prerogative  of  the  least  educated 
music-lover;  it  is  the  critic's  function  to  fathom  the 
author's  motives,  and  to  explain  them  to  his  readers, 
without  stressing  his  own  personal  preferences.  From 
this  point  of  view,  Robert  Schumann,  who  could  "dis- 
cover" a  genius  of  so  antipathetic  a  tendency  as 
Berlioz,  proved  himself  a  model  critic;  while  the  ar- 


214    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

tides  of  that  disinterested  enthusiast,  our  contemporary 
Camille  Mauclair,  at  once  critic  and  creator,  guided 
alike  by  principle  and  impulse,  command  the  respect 
of  artists  of  the  most  divergent  tendencies,  and  exercise 
a  thoroughly  wholesome  influence  on  the  progress  of 
art,  as  a  whole. 

The  practice  of  censuring  any  artistic  conception 
that  does  not  happen  to  conform  to  their  particular 
temperament  does  not  commend  itself  to  those  who 
feel  it  their  vocation  to  cultivate  the  tastes  of  dilet- 
tantes unacquainted  with  the  diversity  of  musical  form, 
and  unconscious  of  its  affinity  with  the  multiple  forms 
of  emotional  life.  But  those  critics  who  aspire  to  pro- 
duce work  of  lasting  educative  and  persuasive  value, 
find  it  necessary,  before  hazarding  an  opinion  on  a  work 
of  unfamiliar  character,  to  make  specially  careful 
inquiry  as  to  its  "intentions,"  and  as  to  the  qualifica- 
tions of  its  creator. 

It  is  easy  enough  to  pronounce  a  hasty  judgment, 
based  on  one's  education  or  one's  particular  pre- 
ferences, but  this  rudimentary  mode  of  informing 
the  public  is  more  suitable  for  "reporters"  of  art  than 
for  conscientious  and  sensitive  analysts,  concerned  to 
appreciate  the  point  of  view  of  the  creator.  Unfortu- 
nately, with  three-quarters  of  the  writers  on  musical 
matters,  book  learning  and  an  ambition  to  shine  in  the 
public  eye  by  a  display  of  erudition  or  cheap  paradoxes, 
take  the  place  of  the  real  requisites  of  a  serious  and 
conscientious  critic — a  passion  for  all  forms  of  artistic 
endeavour,  curiosity  as  to  individual  modes  of  expres- 
sion, a  capacity  to  assimilate  new  forms  of  art  and  to 
extract  the  essence  of  the  ideas  underlying  them,  and 


Rhythm  and  Gesture  215 

the  will  to  withdraw  from  one's  own  personality  in 
order  to  commune  with  other  and  different  personalities. 

It  does  not  follow,  however,  because  we  refuse  to  be 
impressed  by  slaves  of  a  school  or  style  who  condemn 
every  work  that  does  not  conform  to  it,  that  we 
have  any  more  respect  for  those  who  carry  eclec- 
ticism to  an  extreme  and  set  themselves  to  discover 
beauty  where  it  does  not  exist.  Only  it  is  more  common 
to  find  a  critic  failing  to  find  beauty  in  a  work  because 
he  does  not  want  to  find  it,  or  through  lack  of  beauty 
in  himself.  Instinct  is  not  everything — the  faculty 
and  the  desire  to  analyse  would  modify  many  of  the 
"instinctive"  prejudices  of  those  who  undertake  the 
task  of  enlightening  public  opinion  on  the  productions 
of  classical  or  contemporary  music.  In  the  words  of 
that  shrewd  artist,  Jean  Hure:  "The  art  of  criticism 
consists  in  recognising  beauty  wheresoever  and  in 
whatever  diverse  forms  it  may  conceal  itself."  And, 
before  him,  Leonardo  da  Vinci  wrote:  "Love  is  born 
of  Knowledge." 

It  is  all  important  that  the  majority  of  critics  should 
agree  as  to  the  essential  qualities  required  for  the  art 
of  dancing,  and  the  principle  that  should  underlie  the 
various  techniques  involved.  It  is  a  matter  of  the 
reciprocal  influence  of  rhythms  and  feelings  in  sound 
and  plastic;  a  constant  exchange  of  psychic  currents 
and  sensorial  repercussions.  There  may  be  a  diversity 
in  the  external  means  of  expression,  dependent  on  the 
individualities  of  the  executants,  but  all  dancers  who 
are  real  artists — no  matter  how  divergent  their  manners 
of  bodily  expression — must  be  guided  by  the  same 
motive,  the  interpretation  of  music.  The  soul  of  music 


216    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

radiates,  in  an  equal  degree  of  intensity,  from  all  dan- 
cers worthy  of  the  name  of  artist;  but  just  as  a  focus 
of  light  makes  a  different  impression,  according  to  the 
degree  of  atmospheric  resistance,  and  the  processes  of 
sifting  and  reverberation  necessitated  by  the  various 
obstacles  interposed  between  it  and  our  eyes — so  the 
radiating  influence  of  vital  music  may  appeal  to  spec- 
tators in  different  aspects,  arising  from  the  diversity 
of  the  physical  agents  of  response  in  the  dancer,  whether 
in  the  structure  of  his  limbs,  or  in  his  nervous  system 
or  temperament.  To  the  spectator  accustomed  to  the 
varieties  of  physical  mechanism,  these  differences  in 
types  of  gestures  and  attitudes  will  not  matter.  What- 
ever the  imaginative  variations  in  the  embodiment  of 
musical  ideas  and  feelings,  he  will  be  able  to  recognise 
whether  the  latter  have  really  inspired  the  corporal 
movements,  and  to  distinguish  fusion  from  mere  juxta- 
position, creation  from  imitation,  sincere  synrhythm 
from  vulgar  synchronism,  spontaneous  response  from 
considered  adaptation.  Every  musical  work  comprises 
an  element  of  inspiration,  and  another  of  thematic 
development  and  architecture.  This  latter  element 
depends  on  the  intellect  and  physique,  and  may  be 
expressed  differently  by  dancer  interpreters,  according 
as  their  aptitudes  or  understandings  have  formed  their 
various  techniques.  But  the  inspiration  present  at  the 
creation  of  the  music  should  be  revived  in  the  transpo- 
sition of  musical  rhythms  into  movements  in  space ;  the 
same  breath  should  animate  both  sound  and  corporal 
expression.  A  dancer  of  the  old  ballet  school  should 
be  able  to  express  the  soul  of  music  as  faithfully  through 
the  medium  of  the  traditional  processes  to  which  his 


Rhythm  and  Gesture  217 

limbs  are  accustomed,  as  an  Isadora  Duncan  by  her 
immobility,  or  a  Sakharoff  by  his  polymobile  effects, 
provided  that  soul  has  been  absorbed  by  each  of  them. 

In  the  same  way  the  really  artistic  spectator  will  not 
allow  himself  to  be  influenced  by  his  personal  predilec- 
tion for  a  particular  technique,  any  more  than  an  ideal 
audience  of  absolute  music  will  be  biassed  by  tastes  in 
harmony,  construction,  or  orchestration.  We  cannot, 
of  course,  control  our  likes  or  dislikes,  but  these  should 
not  intrude  upon  a  general  appreciation,  relating  to  the 
intrinsic  value  and  sincerity  of  the  artistic  manifesta- 
tion in  question.  Moreover,  the  mastery  of  technique 
being  a  sine  qua  non  for  purposes  of  representation  of  a 
work,  we  must  be  careful  not  to  confuse  idiosyncrasies 
of  artistic  style  with  that  mere  poverty  of  expressive 
resources  which,  alas!  is  the  idiosyncrasy  of  so  many  so- 
called  artists.  One  cannot  construct  a  work  of  art  on 
inspiration  alone;  the  most  profound  thought  may  be 
distorted  by  deficiencies  in  the  vehicle  of  its  externalisa- 
tion.  That  is  why  an  artist  should  never  obsess  him- 
self with  any  particular  method,  but  should  be  con- 
stantly experimenting  with  those  which  have  not  come 
instinctively  to  him.  And  the  same  applies  to  a  critic, 
whose  analytical  faculties  should  be  adaptable  to  all 
forms  of  style. 

The  understanding  of  art  does  not  depend  on  study 
however  profound.  It  is  possessed  completely  only  by 
those  whom  taste  and  temperament  have  made  capable 
of  responding  to  elementary  emotions,  whatever  the 
nature  or  construction  of  the  work,  its  harmonic  or  tonal 
system,  or  its  rhythmic  processes.  Without  this,  it  is  im- 
possible either  to  judge  or  to  understand  a  piece  of  music. 


2i8    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

We  may  find  evidence  of  this  in  the  fact  that  the 
interpretation  of  an  unknown  piano  work  will  often 
seem  to  reveal  to  us  great  interpretative  powers  in  a 
pianist  whose  execution  of  works  with  which  we  are 
familiar  disappoints  or  displeases  us.  Similarly  many 
conductors  who  have  a  prejudice  against  a  particular 
piece  eventually  discover  its  beauties  as  a  result  of 
having  it  repeatedly  played  to  them.  May  we  not  con- 
clude from  this  that  certain  critics  who  after  a  first 
hearing  pronounce  such  and  such  a  piece  to  be  deficient 
in  form  would  change  their  opinions  if  they  took  the 
trouble  to  study  the  score  or  even  to  acquaint  them- 
selves with  the  motives  of  the  composer?  However, 
they  prefer  to  pride  themselves  on  their  subjectivity, 
forgetting  too  often  that  subjectivity  is  only  justifi- 
able on  the  part  of  powerful  and  creative  personalities. 
How  many  critics  are  mere  "grousers,"  confined  to  a 
negative  attitude  out  of  sheer  creative  impotence !  One 
thing  or  the  other:  either  a  critic  is  himself  creative 
and  accordingly  entitled  to  express  preferences  and 
judgments  founded  on  his  temperament,  or  his  function 
is  that  of  an  observer  and  recorder,  in  which  case  he 
must  confine  himself  to  studying,  comparing,  analysing, 
and  directing  attention  without  drawing  conclusions. 
To  attain  the  right  to  deliver  arbitrary  judgments,  he 
must  be  very  sure  of  himself,  follow  an  inflexible  line  of 
conduct,  resist  the  temptation  to  modify  his  judgment 
out  of  friendship  or  personal  bias,  and  keep  his  own 
personality  and  temperament  severely  in  control. 

"Dionysius,"  relates  Rabelais,  "would  ridicule  ped- 
ants who  are  pleased  to  expose  the  faults  of  others 
and  to  ignore  their  own;  musicians  whose  flutes  pre- 


Rhythm  and  Gesture  219 

serve  harmony  but  whose  manners  do  not ;  rhetoricians 
given  to  expounding  justice  without  practising  it." 

If  dramatic  and  musical  critics  instead  of  constantly 
lamenting  the  deterioration  of  the  art  of  gesticulation 
in  drama,  would  take  the  trouble  to  analyse  the  corre- 
lations of  gesture  with  musical  rhythm,  they  would 
learn  that  there  exist,  apart  from  individual  gestures, 
collective  gestures,  and  that  without  a  careful  study  of 
these  last  no  representation  involving  movements  of  a 
chorus  can  attain  a  really  musical  or  artistic  character. 

The  Crowd 

The  individuals  composing  a  chorus,  however  gifted, 
will  never  produce  a  really  dramatic  effect  so  long  as 
they  act  independently  of  one  another.  Forty  persons 
each  making  a  different  gesture,  fail  to  convey  the  im- 
pression of  a  common  emotion.  Their  gestures  are 
lost  in  space.  It  is  with  the  choric  element  as  with 
music  drama  as  a  whole,  each  of  its  elements  should  be 
able  to  fuse  with  the  others  or  temporarily  withdraw  from 
them,  as  necessity  dictates.  The  gesture  of  a  crowd 
should  be  the  result  of  a  number  of  modifications, 
almost  imperceptible,  of  a  fixed  attitude  imposed  on  all 
its  participants.  In  modern  spoken  drama,  each  indi- 
vidual member  of  a  crowd  can  act  independently  and 
gesticulate  according  to  his  fancy  to  give  the  impression 
of,  for  example,  a  festival,  a  strike,  or  a  battle;  .  .  . 
and  we  regard  as  masterpieces  of  this  kind  the  extra- 
ordinary productions  by  M.  F.  Gemier  of  The  Mer- 
chant of  Venice  and  Antony  and  Cleopatra.  But 
in  lyric  drama  the  crowd  has  an  entirely  different 


220    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

function.  It  must  express  the  emotions  of  a  whole 
community,  to  which  end  a  very  special  process  of 
training  is  necessary. 

This  aesthetic  education  of  a  chorus,  the  study  of  the 
laws  which  govern  collective  gesture  and  movement, 
and  which  form  an  integral  part  of  any  system  of  rhyth- 
mic exercises,  deserves  the  special  consideration  of  all  my 
compatriots  who  are  gymnasts,  singers,  or  sportsmen. 
More  than  in  any  other  country,  in  Switzerland  popu- 
lar spectacles  involve  the  participation  of  numerous 
supers,  and  the  happy  influence  of  these  "Festspiele," 
to  employ  the  German  term,  has  long  been  recognised 
by  our  psychologists,  pedagogues,  and  even  theologians. 

From  the  twelfth  century  onwards,  the  Swiss  or- 
ganised performances  of  Passion  plays  to  which  actors 
and  audience  repaired  in  procession,  singing  and  danc- 
ing. These  performances  originally  took  place  in 
churches,  later  they  were  carried  into  the  open  air. 
In  certain  cases  the  spectators  took  an  active  part  in 
them  and  we  have  an  account  of  one  in  which  the  Pi- 
late, reviled  by  two  hundred  actors,  with  difficulty 
escaped  with  his  life. 

In  the  fifteenth  century,  the  colleges  organised  dra- 
matic fetes  under  the  influence  of  the  humanist  plays 
of  Terence,  and  the  performances  of  Passion  plays  in- 
creased. At  Lucerne  in  particular  they  involved  the 
participation  of  hundreds  of  people;  at  Einsiedeln,  the 
audience  sang  in  common  with  the  chorus;  at  Berne 
the  poet  and  painter,  Nicholas  Manuel,  produced  panto- 
mimes and  carnival  plays;  at  Zurich,  Josias  Murer,  in 
his  Siege  of  Babylon,  and  Halzwarth  in  his  Saul,  brought 


Rhythm  and  Gesture  221 

"a  whole  army"  into  play.  Indeed,  pitched  battles 
were  fought  in  the  course  of  the  action,  and  the  text 
indicates  that  in  the  last  act  "the  populace,  appeased, 
with  one  accord  ceases  fighting,  lies  down,  and  falls 
asleep."  There  existed  even  at  that  period,  then,  a 
system  of  rhythm  applied  to  crowds.  The  stage  direc- 
tions are  highly  significant  in  this  respect.  The  trum- 
pets sound,  the  populace  fights,  attacks,  retires,  argues, 
murmurs,  takes  oaths,  dances,  and  forms  processions, 
thus  playing  in  the  piece  a  r61e  as  important  as  that 
of  the  leading  actors. 

These  traditions  have  not  been  lost.  If  the  colleges  of 
music  have  decayed,  and  the  mystery  plays  have  prac- 
tically disappeared,  we  may  set  against  them  those 
great  patriotic  festivals  of  extraordinary  vitality  and 
beauty,  organised  by  the  cantons  on  the  centenaries 
of  their  entry  into  the  confederation.  Phenomena  of 
nature  have  also  inspired  some  wonderful  demonstra- 
tions such  as  the  unforgettable  festival  of  winegrowers. 
We  may  therefore  pride  ourselves  that  our  country 
possesses  a  natural  instinct  for  grouping  crowds  and 
making  them  live  in  dramatic  action.  In  the  open  air, 
under  the  glare  of  the  sun,  in  the  prodigious  framework 
provided  by  a  glorious  landscape  and  sky,  in  scenes 
where  nature  herself  furnishes  every  gradation  of 
height,  depth,  and  density,  processions  pass,  dance- 
circles  are  formed,  men  and  women  fall  on  their  knees 
in  devotion,  without  requiring  any  particular  technique 
of  representation.  But  in  a  restricted  area  everything 
is  different,  and  the  framework  of  a  space  artificially 
confined  creates  special  conditions  of  movement  and 
grouping.  Would  our  Swiss  artists  but  undertake  the 


222    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

interesting  task  of  studying  the  relations  of  defined  and 
lighted  space  with  musical  rhythm  and  physical  move- 
ment, they  might  divert  the  dramatic  art  of  Switzerland 
into  an  entirely  new  channel.  The  works  are  there — 
only  the  stage-technique  is  wanting.  The  impressive 
last  scene  in  Chavannes'  Guillaume  le  Fou  signally 
failed  to  produce  the  requisite  effect  at  the  Comedy 
Theatre  owing  to  the  producer  regarding  the  chorus  of 
Swiss  peasants  as  an  assemblage  of  isolated  men,  each 
retaining  his  individuality,  instead  of  treating  them 
as  one  individual,  a  synthetic  entity.  Let  us,  then, 
consider  the  most  practicable  method  of  bringing  the 
crowd  into  direct  relations  with  the  underlying  motives 
of  lyric  drama  by  means  of  a  refining  process  applied 
to  its  rhythmic  potentialities. 

We  have  all  of  us  admired,  at  gymnastic  displays,  the 
wonderful  living  picture  formed  by  hundreds  of  young 
men  moving  in  step  to  music ;  the  synchronism  of  their 
gestures  produces  a  sensation  at  once  emotive  and  aes- 
thetic, and  yet  these  gymnasts  are  quite  unconscious  of 
creating  an  artistic  effect.  Their  sole  aims  are  discipline 
and  hygiene.  They  cultivate  movement  for  its  own 
sake,  and  give  no  thought  to  it  as  a  medium  for  the 
expression  of  emotion.  On  the  stage,  in  lyric  drama, 
the  crowd  of  supers  also  cultivates  collective  gesture, 
but  in  the  interests  of  ideas.  It  sustains  a  double 
r61e,  not  only  supporting  the  dramatic  action,  but,  in 
addition  (as  in  the  plays  of  ^schylus) ,  communicating 
the  thoughts  of  the  poet  or  expressing  the  emotions  of 
the  spectators,  thereby  forming  an  intermediary  be- 
tween the  stage  and  the  auditorium.  When  it  plays  an 


Rhythm  and  Gesture  223 

active  part  in  the  drama  its  movements  constitute 
gestures  of  action.  When  it  bears  the  r61e  of  confidant 
of  the  hero  or  of  mouthpiece  of  the  religious  or  philo- 
sophic truths  contained  in  the  play,  its  gesture  partakes 
of  the  nature  of  music. 

The  collective  gesture  of  action  may  consist  simply 
of  a  repetition  by  each  member  of  the  chorus  of  an 
individual  movement  prepared  in  advance,  or  even  in 
the  merging  of  a  number  of  individual  gestures  inde- 
pendent of  each  other.  But  where  a  musical  gesture 
has  to  be  made  with  the  object  of  indicating  a  situation 
or  creating  an  atmosphere,  these  individual  gestures 
must  be  unified,  each  member  of  the  chorus  discarding 
his  personality  to  subordinate  himself  to  the  whole. 
In  other  words,  the  producer  must  orchestrate  the 
diverse  movements  of  the  actors  in  such  a  way  as  to 
obtain  a  unity  of  collective  gesture.  Before  studying 
the  laws  by  which  this  orchestration  may  be  effected 
simply,  clearly,  and  naturally,  yet  in  such  a  way  that 
these  skilfully  contrived  collective  movements  retain 
an  essentially  human  character,  we  must  first  under- 
stand the  laws  which  establish  the  harmony  of  indi- 
vidual gestures. 

No  physical  movement  has  any  expressive  virtue  in 
itself.  Expression  by  gesture  depends  on  a  succession 
of  movements  and  on  a  constant  care  for  their  harmonic, 
dynamic,  and  static  rhythm.  The  static  is  the  study 
of  the  laws  of  balance  and  proportion — the  dynamic 
that  of  the  means  of  expression.  According  to  Fran- 
cois del  Sarte,  dynamic  harmony  depends  on  the  rela- 
tion that  subsists  between  all  agents  of  gesture.  Just 


224    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

as  in  music  there  are  consonant  and  dissonant  chords, 
so  in  mimic  art  we  find  consonant  and  dissonant 
gestures.  "Consonant"  movements  are  produced  by 
the  perfect  co-ordination  between  limbs,  head,  and 
torso,  the  fundamental  agents  of  gesture.  Exactly  the 
same  is  the  case  when  it  is  a  question  of  harmonising 
different  motive  elements  of  a  crowd. 

A  crowd  may  act  either  independently  or  conjointly 
with  a  soloist.  In  the  former  case,  it  may  express  an 
affirmative  or  a  negative  attitude,  showing  hesitation  or 
the  reverse;  when  acting  with  a  soloist,  it  introduces 
an  element  of  opposition  or  encouragement  or  even  of 
argument  (that  is  to  say,  a  mixture  of  acquiescence  and 
resistance). 

In  the  collective  movement  of  a  crowd  we  have  to 
observe  both  changes  and  successions  of  attitudes. 
Just  as,  in  the  individual,  changes  in  the  position  of  an 
arm  or  leg  may  become  unassthetic  when  accompanied 
by  superfluous  movements  of  the  shoulders  or  in- 
congruous facial  play,  so  also  changes  of  gesture  and 
attitudes,  while  walking  or  running,  of  a  collection  of 
individuals,  will  produce  a  harmonious  effect  on  the  spec- 
tator only  by  a  subordination  of  each  individual  gesture 
in  favour  of  the  whole.  The  crowd  must  be  considered 
by  the  producer  as  an  entity,  a  single  individual,  with 
many  limbs.  The  simultaneous  execution  of  individual 
gestures  will  not  of  itself  express  the  collective  emotions 
of  a  crowd.  Fifty  persons  slowly  raising  their  arms 
will  only  produce  the  effect  of  a  single  strong  line.  In 
order  to  convey  the  impression  of  a  whole  people  rais- 
ing its  arms,  the  gesture  of  each  isolated  actor  should 
carry  on  the  gesture  commenced  by  his  neighbour  and 


a, 


Rhythm  and  Gesture  225 

transmit  it  to  a  third  in  pursuance  of  a  continuous 
movement.  Similarly  where  it  is  desired  to  manifest 
an  impetuous  tendency,  a  single  step  forward  taken  by 
each  member  of  the  chorus  will  by  no  means  suggest 
the  advance  of  a  whole  crowd.  To  accomplish  this,  the 
rear  members  must  remain  stationary,  other  members 
taking  a  slight  step,  others  again  a  longer,  and  yet 
others  more  than  one  step  forward  in  such  a  way  that 
the  whole  space  is  occupied  and,  in  consequence,  the 
group  is  extended. 

It  is  the  same  with  dynamic  gesture.  The  impression 
of  a  common  release  of  energy  does  not  depend  on  the 
amount  of  muscular  effort  contributed  by  each  indi- 
vidual member.  An  effect  of  crescendo  could  be  ob- 
tained without  any  increase  of  energy  on  the  part  of 
individuals  by  a  simple  shrinkage  of  the  group  analo- 
gous to  that  of  the  contraction  of  a  muscle,  or,  on  the 
other  hand,  an  extension  which  will  cause  it  to  occupy 
a  larger  area.  Generally  speaking,  dynamic  effects  are 
obtained  by  modifications  of  space,  and  emotive  effects 
by  interruptions  of  continuous  symmetrical  formations. 
A  single  person  rising  gently  out  of  a  kneeling  group 
will  produce  a  stronger  impression  than  if  the  whole  rose 
at  the  same  moment.  The  effect  will  be  increased  ten- 
fold if,  while  he  rises,  those  who  remain  kneeling  bow 
themselves  to  the  ground.  Just  as  every  gesture  of  the 
arm  attains  its  maximum  significance  by  the  opposition 
of  another  limb,  so  a  collective  gesture  should  be  set 
off  by  carefully  contrived  contrasted  gestures.  An  ad- 
vancing body  will  convey  a  far  stronger  impression  of 
its  forward  direction  if  simultaneously  other  bodies  are 
seen  retiring. 
15 


226    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

Thus  polyrhythm  ought  to  play  a  highly  important 
part  in  the  training  of  stage  crowds;  not  alone  poly- 
rhythm  as  applied  to  the  chorus,  but  that  formed  by 
counterpoint  between  the  gestures  of  the  individual 
actor  and  those  of  the  crowd,  opposing  continuous  slow 
movement  to  lively  and  irregular  movement,  linking 
in  canon  gestures  and  steps,  producing  all  manner  of 
variations  of  attitude.  The  study  of  the  relations  be- 
tween stage  gesture  and  space  demonstrates  the  need 
of  dispensing  with  painted  representations  of  artificial 
dimensions  in  favour  of  real  inclines  and  staircases1 
which  permit  the  body  to  vary  its  attitudes  in  pursuit 
of  balance.  But  it  is  not  enough  to  have  provided  actors 
with  material  conditions  more  suitable  for  bodily  move- 
ment. The  essential  is  to  give  them  the  special  edu- 
cation required  for  the  utilisation  of  such  conditions. 
This  education  must  adjust  the  relations  between  space 
and  time;  hence  it  will  be  essentially  musical,  for 
music  is  the  only  art  that  teaches  time-nuance.  The 
chorus  must  reproduce  the  elementary  rhythms  of  mu- 
sic; it  must  give  form  and  a  framework  to  the  indi- 
vidual actions  of  the  protagonists.  In  an  orchestral 
ensemble,  full  freedom  is  allowed  the  individual  mu- 
sicians in  interpreting  the  dominant  motives  of  the 
work,  but  their  lyric  expansion  is  continually  restrained 
and  toned  down  by  the  necessity  of  respecting  the  gen- 
eral form  and  of  preserving  the  balance  of  the  interpre- 
tation as  a  whole.  As  we  have  said,  it  is  the  chorus 
that  creates  the  atmosphere  in  which  the  individual 
artists  perform ;  the  latter  must  obviously  be  permitted 
freedom  of  individual  action,  but  only  so  long  as  they 

1  See  page  202  of  this  Chapter. 


Rhythm  and  Gesture  227 

keep  within  the  limits  imposed  by  the  aesthetic  and 
emotional  atmosphere  of  the  piece.  For  the  rest,  each 
individual  whether  in  the  chorus  or  outside  it  must 
sacrifice  his  particular  idiosyncracies  of  expression  in 
the  interests  of  the  general  impression;  the  crowd  re- 
taining its  special  function  of  pointing  the  similarity 
and  contrasts  between  the  imaginary  lives  of  the  dramatis 
persona  and  the  ordinary  lives  and  rhythm  of  the 
spectators. 

The  special  training  for  choruses  proposed  by  Appia 
twenty  years  ago  and  since  practised  by  us,  aims  at 
giving  performers  the  necessary  flexibility  for  adapting 
themselves  spontaneously  to  all  the  rhythms,  however 
complex,  called  into  play  by  the  inspiration  and  what 
we  may  be  permitted  to  call  the  "music"  of  the  crea- 
tive imagination.  This  education  should  be  imposed 
likewise  on  conductors,  producers,  and  specialists  in 
stage  painting  and  lighting,  whose  efforts  should  com- 
bine to  produce  an  impression  of  unity,  for  they  can 
remain  independent  and  isolated  only  at  serious  risk 
to  the  work  as  a  whole. 


Stage  lighting  does  not  generally  attempt  more  than 
a  picturesque  imitation  of  the  effects  of  nature,  hardly 
venturing  outside  the  scope  of  scenic  decoration.  Its 
action,  allied  with  music,  however,  would  create  new 
and  varied  possibilities  of  expression.  Discarding  its 
habitual  function  of  representing  the  various  shades 
of  day  and  night,  it  might  participate  directly  in  the 
dramatic  action,  accentuating  sudden  changes  of  feel- 
ing, whether  impulses  or  reactions,  permeating  the 


228    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

decorative  space  with  its  emotive  qualities.  We  might 
thus  be  shown  a  crowd  at  first  enveloped  in  relative 
darkness  entering  little  by  little  into  a  zone  of  light' 
different  elements  of  the  crowd  disporting  themselves 
in  variously  lighted  parts  until  the  collective  gesture 
begun  in  twilight  emerges  into  the  triumphal  light  of 
day. 

Light  is  the  sister  of  music.  .  .  .  To  reinforce  the 
crescendo  of  the  one  by  strengthening  the  other,  to 
harmonise  all  their  qualities  of  shading,  phrasing,  and 
rhythm,  would  be  to  convey  to  an  audience,  by  a  com- 
bination of  sound  and  light,  a  maximum  of  aesthetic 
sensation  and  to  provide  actors  with  undreamt  facilities 
of  expression.  Provided,  naturally,  that  actors  should 
not  come  to  use  these  new  methods  mechanically,  that 
they  should  remain  real  artists.  For  art  is  not  a  par- 
ticular method  of  expressing  or  transcribing  life.  It  is 
"life  itself  and  the  means  of  experiencing  it."  The 
development  of  sentiment  and  temperament  does  not 
unfortunately  enter  into  any  actual  curriculum  of  artis- 
tic education.  That  is  a  grave  mistake,  and  it  seems 
incredible  that  so  few  artists  and  critics  should  recognise 
it.  So  far  as  we  are  concerned,  if  we  earnestly  desire 
these  reforms  it  is  because,  to  vary  the  maxim  of  La 
Rochefoucauld,  "we  know  perfectly  what  we  want." 


CHAPTER  XI 
HOW  TO  REVIVE  DANCING  (1912) 

Definition  of  dancing — The  so-called  "classical"  dance, 
and  the  negation  of  gravity — Acrobatics  of  gesture — Metre  and 
rhythm — Excessive  isolation  of  music  from  dancing — Dancers 
and  composers  of  ballets — Creation  of  choreographic  style — 
Phrasing  and  pace  of  dancing — Divers  exercises  in  fusion  of 
music  and  moving  plastic — Gesture  and  expression — Sincerity 
and  travesty — Plastic  polyrhythm — Fiction  and  fact  in  the 
theatre — The  dance  of  the  future. 


229 


CHAPTER  XI 

HOW  TO  REVIVE  DANCING  (1912) 

DANCING  has  always,  from  the  time  of  Lucian  to  that 
of  Goethe  and  Theophile  Gautier,  been  described  in 
dithyrambic  and  aerial  terms,  calling  up  vague  dreams 
of  a  supernatural  order,  in  which  bodily  form,  emanci- 
pated from  the  laws  of  gravity,  floated  high  above  the 
realities  of  human  existence.  These  are  not  the  terms 
in  which  I  propose  to  frame  my  discourse  on  the  dance 
to-day;  my  object  is  to  determine  within  what  limits 
the  art  of  dancing  may  approach,  in  its  conception  and 
by  purely  human  means,  governed  by  physiological  laws, 
the  art,  at  present  in  full  course  of  development,  from 
which  it  very  directly  derives,  namely,  music. 

There  exist,  and  there  will  always  exist,  exceptional 
beings  who,  naturally  gifted  in  music  and  moving  plas- 
tic, imbued  with  the  joy  of  living,  and  permeated  with 
the  profound  impression  of  beauty  derived  from  human 
emotions,  contrive  to  render  sound  rhythms  visible, 
and  to  re-create  music  plastically,  without  any  special 
training,  guided  solely  by  their  intuition,  and  by  the 
unconscious  subordination  of  their  physical  faculties  to 
their  imaginative  and  emotional  capacities.  These  are 
spoilt  children  of  fortune,  and  education  is  only  wasted 
on  them. 

Numerous  normal  individuals  are  attracted  to  the 

231 


232    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

art  of  choreography  by  a  natural  taste  for  plastic  ex- 
pression— frequently  for  mere  bodily  movement — and 
devote  themselves  to  dancing,  without  acquiring  the 
numerous  faculties  necessary  for  the  practice  of  this 
independent  and  profoundly  human  art.  For  these, 
the  training  in  vogue  among  dancers  is  hopelessly  inade- 
quate. The  possibility  of  raising  the  standard  of  this 
training  is  my  present  concern;  only  by  the  raising  of 
this  standard,  and,  in  consequence,  this  mentality  of 
dancers,  can  the  dance  be  restored  to  its  ancient 
glories. 

I  desire  to  confine  myself,  in  this  study  of  the  condi- 
tions and  possibilities  of  a  renaissance  of  choreographic 
art,  to  the  technical  side  of  my  subject,  and  may  be 
pardoned,  I  trust,  for  omitting  the  usual  metaphorical 
and  lyrical  flourishes. 

Dancing  is  the  art  of  expressing  emotion  by  means  of 
rhythmic  bodily  movements. — It  is  not  the  function  of 
rhythm  to  render  these  movements  expressive,  but 
merely  to  control  and  refine  them,  in  fact  to  make  them 
artistic,  by  means  of  a  "conscious  change  of  their 
relations" — in  Taine's  expression.  From  remotest  an- 
tiquity we  find  the  dance  accompanied  by  forms  of 
music,  aiming  at  the  rhythmic  regulation  of  gesture, 
evolutions,  and  attitude.  This  musical  accompaniment 
may  not  be  strictly  necessary,  as  I  will  explain  in  a 
moment;  but  once  we  admit  that  the  art  of  dancing 
involves  a  fusion  of  rhythmic  sound  and  movement — 
just  as,  in  lyric  art,  we  find  the  spoken  word  allied  to 
music — we  are  forced  to  the  conclusion  that  the  state 
of  decadence  in  which  dancing  has  sunk  in  our  time  is 


How  to  Revive  Dancing          233 

due  partly  to  the  exaggerated  development  of  bodily 
virtuosity  at  the  expense  of  expression,  and  partly  to 
the  absolute  negation  of  the  principle  of  unity  of  cor- 
poral plastic  and  musical  rhythm. x 

In  stage  dancing,  as  may  still  be  witnessed  in  the 
more  important  operatic  performances,  bodily  move- 
ments tend  neither  to  express  feelings  nor  to  transpose 
sound  movements.  They  rarely  harmonise  at  all  with 
the  music  which  is  supposed  to  have  evoked  them,  and 
the  limbs  that  execute  them  are  not  even  themselves  in 
harmony.  The  arms  ignore  the  movements  of  the  legs, 
or  rather  they  have  the  air  of  refusing  to  follow  the  latter 
in  their  evolutions.  They  confine  themselves  to  main- 
taining balance,  and  might  as  well  belong  to  a  different 
body.  As  to  the  legs,  their  r61e  would  appear  to  consist 
in  repudiating  the  weight  of  the  body.  One  can  under- 
stand how,  by  eliminating  from  their  drawings  the  re- 
presentation of  certain  muscular  contractions,  painters 
contrive  to  dispel  the  impression  of  weight,  with  the 
definite  object  of  conveying  an  illusion  of  immateri- 
ality (in  the  ascension  of  saints,  flights  of  angels,  etc.). 
But  dancers,  without  knowing  it,  merely  emphasise  the 
material  aspect  of  the  body  in  seeking  to  negative  its 
weight  by  a  series  of  leaps  and  bounds.  These  are  only 

'Training  in  (so-called)  "classical"  ballet  dancing  aims  at  the  acquire- 
ment of  a  certain  number  of  automatisms,  of  an  acrobatic  nature,  which 
can  be  linked  together  in  various  ways.  The  function  of  the  mattre-de- 
ballet  consists  in  adapting  them  to  the  divers  forms  of  music  they  are 
intended  to  interpret.  Once  dancers  have  passed  their  final  examina- 
tion, their  technique  is  regarded  as  finished,  and  any  artistic  development 
considered  superfluous.  Throughout  their  career  they  continue  to  exhibit 
to  the  public  the  virtuoso  effects  which  they  acquired  in  their  training,  and 
which  constitute  what  is  popularly  known  as  the  art  of  choreography. 


234    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

effected  by  strenuous  efforts  of  contraction.  The  im- 
materialisation  of  a  body  can  only  be  expressed  in 
dancing  by  the  graduation  of  dynamic  diminuendos  in 
limbs  other  than  the  legs,  since  the  latter,  in  the  course 
of  the  dance,  are  bound  to  be  contracted.  This  imma- 
terialisation,  incidentally,  cannot  possibly  be  conveyed 
to  the  audience  unless  the  dancer  is  sincerely  and  com- 
pletely absorbed  in  immaterial  thoughts.  But  spiritual 
faculties  can  never  be  developed  normally  and  com- 
pletely in  a  dancer  who  specialises  in  restricted  move- 
ment and  particularly  in  the  realistic  movement  of 
leaping. 

A  complete  thought,  an  association  of  ideas  and  feel- 
ings, a  "state  of  soul,"  can  only  be  interpreted  by  a 
body  wholly  absorbed  in  that  thought.  Just  as,  in  op- 
era, mere  aimless  singing,  wholly  concerned  with  virtu- 
osity, conveys  to  artists  an  impression  of  insincerity 
and  futility,  so  bodily  movements,  where  not  inspired 
by  the  need  for  externalising  feelings  or  interpreting  a 
really  vital  piece  of  music,  constitute  a  form  of  ridicu- 
lous stage  acrobatics.  Dancing  and  mimicry,  in  relation 
to  the  modern  stage,  have  become  inferior  arts  (in 
pantomime,  gestures  serve  merely  to  express  conven- 
tional feelings  and  realistic  actions)  through  specialisa- 
tion in  purely  technical  effects.  Of  what  avail  the  vari- 
ety of  these  effects,  or  even  the  care  of  certain  dancers 
to  produce  them  synchronically  with  the  measured  ca- 
dences of  the  orchestra?  Not  measure,  but  rhythm, 
assures  the  originality  of  musical  expression.  It  is 
futile  for  dancers  who  are  not  artists  to  make  their 
steps  exactly  correspond  with  the  musical  phrasing — 
their  movements  express  not  music,  but  merely  its 


How  to  Revive  Dancing          235 

external  forms  deprived  of  all  vital  impulse.  Rapidity 
or  slowness  of  sound  or  bodily  movement  can  only  be- 
come expressive  when  made  to  represent  a  state  of 
concentration  or  excitement  produced  by  stimulat- 
ing and  emotive  mental  images.  A  slow  walk  or 
a  light  run  can  only  produce  an  aesthetic  impression 
where  the  general  pace  of  the  interpreter  indicates  to 
the  spectator  the  relations  between  the  visible  move- 
ments and  the  concentrated  state  of  mind  and  soul  that 
has  evoked  them.  If  the  speed  of  the  walk  or  run  be 
influenced  by  immaterial  causes,  the  general  attitude 
of  the  whole  body  will  be  similarly  influenced — which 
only  proves  the  insincerity  of  most  of  the  regular  danc- 
ing steps,  for  which  only  the  leg-muscles  are  required, 
and  which  furnish  an  analogy  to  the  audacious  scale 
passages  so  justly  tabooed  from  modern  instrumental 
music. 

There  is  no  longer  any  necessity  to  plead  the  case  for 
the  old  operatic  ballet;  the  case  has  already  been 
judged  and  lost!  The  public  has  ceased  to  take  any 
interest  in  choreography,  and  artists  no  longer  regard 
it  as  an  art;  but  the  deplorable  part  is  that  neither 
artists  nor  public  appreciate  the  real  grounds  of  their 
contempt.  We  find  them  still  extolling  the  merits  of 
individual  dancers  of  repute,  from  which  we  might  con- 
clude that  the  decadence  of  choreographic  art  lay,  in 
their  opinion,  in  the  inferiority  of  the  standard  of  danc- 
ers. Very  few  performers  are  conscious  of  the  discord 
existing  between  musical  metre  and  rhythm,  and  the 
manner  of  expressing  them  plastically.  The  gulf  sepa- 
rating the  orchestra  from  the  stage  appears  to  them  a 


236    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

normal  state.  The  notable  efforts  of  Isadora  Duncan 
to  revive  Greek  dancing  seems  to  them  all  that  is  re- 
quired to  reform  the  art  of  ballet;  they  do  not  notice 
that  these  dances  are  quite  uninfluenced  by  music,  and 
could  dispense  with  music  altogether !  Others — includ- 
ing quite  well-known  artists  and  critics — preserve,  or 
affect  to  preserve,  an  unshaken  confidence  in  the  choreo- 
graphic traditions,  despite  the  complete  divorce  of  these 
from  their  musical  principles,  which  are  based  on  a 
sincere  research  for  natural  musical  expression.  In 
short,  the  dancing  public  of  to-day  appears  to  me  in  an 
analogous  situation  to  an  audience  at  the  opera  that 
did  not  notice  when  (i)  the  rhythms  of  the  vocal  text 
did  not  correspond  with  the  musical  rhythms,  supposed 
to  give  them  their  value,  and  (2)  the  artists  sang  in  a 
different  key  and  time  from  the  orchestra. 

Wagner  strenuously  combated  the  lack  of  unity  be- 
tween poesy  and  music,  and  accomplished  something 
of  a  revolution.  In  the  same  way,  artists,  conscious  of 
the  gulf  that  separates  corporal  language  from  sound 
rhythms  on  the  stage,  should  concentrate  on  bringing 
home  to  the  public  the  real  cause  of  the  artistic  inferi- 
ority of  which  they  cannot  fail  to  be  conscious,  and 
impressing  on  them  that  if  dancing  is  no  longer  an  art, 
it  is  only  because  the  fundamental  laws  of  sound  and 
plastic  aesthetics  are  no  longer  regarded. 

The  music  of  movement,  like  the  music  of  sound,  aims 
at  expressing  the  common  emotions  of  humanity. 

The  music  that  is  within  us,  and  which  is  composed 
of  our  natural  rhythms,  and  of  the  emotions  that  de- 
termine the  sensations  peculiar  to  our  temperament, 
may  assume  different  forms,  according  to  the  capacities 


How  to  Revive  Dancing          237 

of  individuals.  In  dancing,  it  must  transpose  itself  at 
once  into  sound  and  movement.  Sound-music  regu- 
lates, controls,  and  refines  plastic,  which  otherwise 
would  be  abandoned  to  the  anarchy  of  movements. 
In  addition,  it  strengthens  expression  by  means  of  its 
stimulating  properties.  Plastic,  on  the  other  hand,  ren- 
ders sounds  visible  and  gives  them  a  human  touch. 

In  the  modern  ballet,  music  and  dancing  are  separated 
owing  to  the  isolation  of  musical  and  choreographic 
training.  This  has  been  the  case  for  so  long  that  there 
exists  very  little  ballet  music  suitable  for  dancing,  and 
very  few  bodily  rhythms  involved  in  dancing  that 
can  inspire  composers  with  original  musical  ideas. 
There  is  no  common  ground  between  dancers  and  com- 
posers for  the  ballet,  nor  any  rapport  between  rhythms 
in  time  and  those  in  space. x 

Once  it  is  admitted  that  bodily  movements  should 
be  controlled  by  musical  rhythms,  it  becomes  important 
that  the  latter  should  be  susceptible  of  corporal  reali- 
sation. If  we  examine  the  present-day  ballet  music,  we 

1  If  you  point  out  this  state  of  affairs  to  a  painter,  he  will  tell  you, 
with  apparent  logic,  that,  from  his  point  of  view,  the  sight  of  harmonious 
movements  is  more  important  than  the  sound  of  adequately  harmonised 
music,  and  that  this  juxtaposition  of  different  elements  seems  to  him 
to  destroy  the  unity  of  the  plastic  impression.  Undoubtedly — assuming 
he  lacks  a  normal  feeling  for  music! — nothing  can  be  more  legitimate 
than  moving  plastic  dispensing  with  music,  and  drawing  all  its  resources 
from  the  human  body.  The  trouble  is  that  non-musical  dancers,  in- 
capable of  interpreting  the  music  which  is  supposed  to  be  inspiring  them, 
are  not  content  to  dispense  with,  and  contrive  rather  to  parody,  it. 
One  thing  or  the  other,  either  they  regard  music  as  a  mere  agent  of 
control  over  movements,  in  which  case  any  instrument  of  percussion 
will  serve  their  purpose,  or,  accepting  music  as  a  genuinely  inspiring 
force,  they  must  submit  themselves  to  its  impulses,  and  spare  us  the 
revolting  spectacle  of  its  prostitution. 


238    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

find  that  the  time-units  are  commonly  too  short  to 
enable  legs  and  arms  to  express  them  synchronically, 
whence  we  may  conclude  that  composers  of  ballet  are 
unacquainted  with  the  instrument  for  which  they  are 
writing,  and  are  producing  music,  the  greater  part  of 
which  is  impracticable  for  its  proclaimed  purposes. 
They  accumulate  technical  musical  devices  to  dissimu- 
late their  lack  of  understanding  of  the  human  body, 
and  its  potentialities  of  expression. 

On  the  other  hand,  we  find  that  when,  in  the  course 
of  ballet  music,  passages  suitable  for  expression  by  the 
body  do  occur,  the  dancers  do  not  even  attempt  to 
reconcile  their  movements  with  the  rhythm  of  the 
music,  and  content  themselves  with  adapting  the  con- 
ventional interpretation.  This  leads  us  to  our  second 
conclusion,  that  ballet  dancers  are  ignorant  of  the  laws 
of  sound  rhythm,  in  relation  to  those  of  plastic  rhythm, 
and  find  themselves — confronted  with  music — in  the 
situation  of  a  village  fiddler  able  to  repeat  by  heart  a 
certain  number  of  airs  which  have  been  crammed  into 
him,  but  who,  placed  in  an  orchestra,  knowing  nothing 
of  the  laws  of  musical  prosody,  would  seek  to  adapt 
these  airs — as  best  he  could — to  the  music  he  was  set  to 
read,  and  which  was  a  dead  letter  to  him.  These  two 
conclusions  bring  us  to  a  third,  viz.,  that  if  we  wish  to 
instigate  a  revival  of  dancing  as  an  art,  we  must  pro- 
vide an  education  that  will  enable  dancers  to  under- 
stand the  music  they  are  set  to  express  plastically,  and 
familiarise  composers  with  the  laws  of  balance  and  bod- 
ily movement  in  all  their  nuances.  Only  in  this  way 
can  there  be  any  question  of  an  adequate  rhythmic  and 
plastic  expression  of  emotion,  for  only  when  we  are 


How  to  Revive  Dancing          239 

thoroughly  versed  in  the  multiple  signs  of  a  language 
can  we  effectively  employ  these  signs  to  express  our 
feelings. 

The  art  of  musical  rhythm  consists  in  differentiating 
time-durations,  combining  them  in  succession,  arrang- 
ing rests  between  them,  and  accentuating  them  con- 
sciously or  unconsciously,  according  to  physiological 
law.  The  art  of  plastic  rhythm  is  to  designate  move- 
ment in  space,  to  interpret  long  time-values  by  slow 
movements,  and  short  ones  by  quick  movements, 
regulate  pauses  in  their  divers  successions,  and  express 
sound  accentuations  in  their  multiple  nuances  by  ad- 
ditions or  diminutions  of  bodily  weight,  by  means  of 
muscular  innervations. 

The  dancer-student  (and  by  the  term  dancer  I  imply 
every  interpreter  of  music  by  means  of  bodily  move- 
ment, including  operatic  singers  and  conductors)  should 
therefore  undergo  a  double  and  parallel  training,  as  a 
result  of  which  he  will  acquire  a  knowledge  of,  and 
sensitiveness  to,  music,  and  an  understanding  of  the 
rhythms  that  inspire  it,  together  with  the  faculty  of 
interpreting  these  plastically,  without  sacrificing  their 
style — that  is,  the  alterations  the  composer  has  effected 
in  the  relations  of  the  rhythms  as  between  themselves. 
It  is  these  alterations  that  express  his  emotions  and 
all  the  dynamic  and  pathetic  nuances  comprising  the 
emotional  element  in  the  music  should  be  executed  by 
the  dancer  by  means  of  modifications  in  the  regularity 
oj  muscular  movements  effected  by  his  own  sensibility. 
These  modifications  can  only  be  produced  as  a  result 
of  special  exercises,  and  the  following  seem  to  me  indis- 


240    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

pensable  for  giving  the  artist  a  consciousness  of  his 
movements,  and  making  it  possible  for  him  to  vary  and 
combine  them  artificially  without  strain. 

In  the  first  place,  the  dancer  must  be  rendered  capa- 
ble of  walking  in  time,  whatever  the  movement  be — 
which  is  by  no  means  as  easy  as  might  be  thought. 
Dancers,  as  a  rule,  do  not  know  how  to  walk  slowly, 
they  cannot  keep  balance,  and  the  virtuosity  of  their 
legs  is  confined  to  quick  movements.  If  one  carefully 
watches  Isadora  Duncan,  in  other  respects  the  sworn 
enemy  of  mere  technical  virtuosity,  and  a  seeker  after 
naturalistic  effects,  one  will  notice  that  she  rarely 
walks  in  time  to  an  adagio,  almost  invariably  adding 
involuntarily  one  or  more  steps  to  the  number  pre- 
scribed by  the  musical  phrase.  This  arises  from  her 
inability  to  control  the  transfer  of  the  weight  of  the 
body  from  one  leg  to  another  in  all  variations  of  pace. 
She  disregards  the  laws  of  gravity  which,  from  the  cor- 
poral plastic  point  of  view,  create  the  laws  of  balance. 
The  only  art  in  space  hitherto  known  to  us,  architec- 
ture, is  based  on  the  laws  of  gravity  and  balance. 
The  human  body  is  intended  likewise  to  submit  itself 
to  these  laws,  and  various  muscular  inner vations  are 
there  for  the  purpose.  Ordinary  stage  dancers  are  in- 
capable of  walking  slowly;  we  have  all  seen  them 
waddle  back  to  the  wings,  like  ducks,  after  their  turns. 
Choreographic  training  deforms  the  natural  play  of 
their  joints.  In  my  exercises  in  measured  walking — 
to  me  the  A  B  C  of  a  choreographic  training — the  stu- 
dent learns  to  control  the  harmony  of  the  active  muscles, 
and  their  complements,  from  the  slowest  largo  to  a 
lively  allegro,  and  to  practise  accelerandos,  ritenutos,  and 


How  to  Revive  Dancing          241 

rubatos,  in  walking,  without  losing  his  balance.  In 
addition,  different  kinds  of  walking  are  evoked  by  the 
different  pace  of  musical  phrases  and  adapted  to  stac- 
catos, legates,  portandos,  and  the  like  effects  of  the  music. 
There  exist  here  as  many  variations  as  in  the  bow 
strokes  of  a  violinist,  and  the  same  comparison  will 
enable  us  to  follow  the  special  exercises  and  training 
necessitated  by  the  different  styles  of  walking  and  halt- 
ing, whether  abruptly  or  slowly.  To  attack  a  phrase 
on  the  violin  by  an  anacrusis  of  three  semi-quavers 
necessitates  a  different  position  for  the  bow,  and  a  dif- 
ferent kind  of  muscular  activity  from  that  required  for 
an  attack  on  a  semibreve  played  pianissimo,  or  on  a 
crotchet  played  forte,  and  followed  by  a  rest.  The 
study  of  repressions  of  steps  is  of  even  more  importance, 
inasmuch  as  the  cessation  of  movement  constitutes,  for 
dancing  purposes,  a  potent  means  of  creating  contrasts 
and  of  introducing  polyphony  in  the  expression  of 
feelings.  In  many  respects,  the  dance  may  be  compared 
with  a  concerto  for  violin  and  orchestra,  in  which  the 
soloist  engages  in  a  dialogue  with  the  other  instruments., 
and  where  now  one,  now  another  of  the  two  protagon- 
ists remains  silent  for  a  moment  to  enable  his  inter- 
locutor to  speak.  In  dancing,  however,  the  dialogue  is 
conducted  in  two  different  languages:  plastic  phrases  re- 
spond to  musical  phrases.  The  essential  is  that  artistic 
and  aesthetic  emotion  should  be  expressed ;  for  the  rest, 
plastic  language  has  no  less  and  varied  resources  than 
that  of  music. 

To  return  to  our  exercises  in  walking :  it  goes  without 

saying  that  these  are  not  confined  to  a  flat  surface, 
16 


242    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

but  are  practised  on  inclines  strewn  with  objects,  and 
on  staircases  of  every  kind  and  dimension.  Once  we 
are  concerned  with  utilising  the  whole  body  for  the 
expression  of  human  emotion,  it  becomes  obviously  ab- 
surd to  deprive  it  of  opportunities  of  freely  disporting 
itself  in  its  divers  modes  of  activity.  The  walk  of  a 
man  will  vary  according  to  the  surface  on  which  he  is 
moving;  it  is  therefore  necessary  that,  in  the  theatre, 
he  should  be  given  practice  in  moving  on  different 
kinds  of  surfaces. z  Have  you  ever  seen  children  danc- 
ing on  a  grassy  slope?  And  do  you  know  the  deep 
impression  made  by  the  sight  of  a  crowd  of  men  labori- 
ously climbing  a  mountain? 

Preliminary  exercises  in  walking  should  be  executed 
without  the  aid  of  the  arms.  These  are  reserved  for 
other  than  the  purely  balancing  functions  to  which 
ballet  dancers  devote  them.  The  arms  form  the  prin- 
cipal medium  for  the  expression  of  feelings  called  up  by 
dancing,  and  lend  themselves  to  an  infinite  number  of 
combinations  of  movements.  I  should  say  that  the 
symbols  forming  the  language  of  gesture  are  almost  as 
numerous  as  those  of  the  language  of  articulate  speech. 
The  study  of  gestures,  their  oppositions  and  combina- 
tions, is,  however,  unknown  in  operatic  ballet  circles 
where  the  arms  serve  only  to  maintain  balance.  Dan- 
cers of  the  Duncan  school  employ  more  varied,  beauti- 
ful, and  numerous  gestures,  but  they  are  usually  con- 
fined to  antique  models,  reproducing  the  attitudes  of 
Greek  statues  and  by  no  means  asserting  the  person- 
ality of  the  dancer,  or  expressing  spontaneous  and  sin- 
cere emotion.  Apart  from  that,  they  operate  in  space, 

1  See  Chapter  X,  p.  202. 


How  to  Revive  Dancing          243 

without  order  of  sequence;  they  are  never  led  up  to, 
they  occur  at  haphazard;  they  are  not  the  inevitable 
product  of  nuances  of  feeling  dictated  by  the  music; 
finally,  they  fail  to  interpret  the  mentalities  of  con- 
temporary human  beings. 

In  studying  diction,  the  pupil  is  taught  carefully  to 
modulate  his  voice  according  to  his  temperament,  and 
not  in  imitation  of  the  vocal  nuances  conceived  by 
others.  The  same  applies  to  the  study  of  gesture,  which 
should  depend  on  the  shape  of  limbs,  the  force  and  flexi- 
bility of  muscles,  and  the  particular  dispositions  of  the 
joints.  To  give  an  idea  of  the  infinite  number  of  combina- 
tions of  gestures,  let  us  take  the  movement  of  raising  the 
left  arm  and  holding  it,  vertically,  above  the  head.  This 
gesture  may  vary  in  form  and  expression,  according  to 
the  divers  inclinations  of  the  torso  and  head,  the  degree 
of  tension  or  flexion  of  the  elbow  or  wrist,  the  position 
of  the  fingers  in  the  hand,  open  or  closed,  and  the  dis- 
placements of  the  torso  or  other  parts  of  the  body. 
Again,  while  raising  the  left  arm,  the  right  may  remain 
stationary  or  sink  in  contrast,  or  bend  to  the  right  or 
left  or  rear,  in  every  nuance  of  tension  or  flexion. 
These  various  combinations  of  the  arm  may  assume  a 
totally  different  significance,  according  as  the  actor's 
eye  is  directed  to  the  left  arm,  right  arm,  elbow,  wrist, 
or  fingers.  They  produce  varied  impressions  according 
to  the  degree  of  resistance  of  the  inhibitory  muscles, 
and  the  slowness  or  rapidity  of  the  movements  (one 
arm  may  be  raised  slowly  while  the  other  makes  a  rapid 
gesture).  Yet  again,  while  the  left  arm  is  being  raised, 
the  right  may  execute  quite  a  number  of  movements, 
and  each  of  these  gestures  may  be  seen  in  a  different 


244    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

aspect,  according  to  the  successive  directions  of  the  eye. 
Finally,  the  divers  positions  of  the  legs  will  further 
modify  the  pace  and  aesthetic  significance  of  the  arm 
gestures.  According  as  the  weight  of  the  body  is  on  the 
leg  placed  in  front,  or  to  the  rear,  and  to  the  degree  of 
inclination,  and  the  condition  of  flexion  or  tension  of 
the  legs,  the  whole  attitude  will  vary  in  meaning  and 
value.  Each  of  these  detailed  modifications  in  the 
position  as  a  whole  may,  in  their  turn,  be  combined 
with  other  alterations  of  the  original  attitude,  from 
which  may  be  seen  that  the  vocabulary  of  gesture  does 
not  lack  variety.  The  important  point,  for  artistic 
purposes,  is  that,  according  to  the  feeling  that  evokes 
the  gesture  and  the  physiognomic  expression  produced 
by  the  mental  attitude,  each  of  the  varieties  of  gesture 
we  have  mentioned  will  assume  a  distinctive  character, 
and  reflect  diversely  the  multiple  nuances  of  human 
emotions. 

Gesture  itself  is  nothing — its  whole  value  depends  on 
the  emotion  that  inspires  it,  and  no  form  of  dance, 
however  rich  in  technical  combinations  of  corporal  atti- 
tudes, can  ever  be  more  than  a  mere  unmeaning  amuse- 
ment, so  long  as  it  does  not  aim  at  depicting  human 
emotions  in  their  fulness  and  intimate  veracity.  One 
has  only  to  consider  in  this  light  our  present  operatic 
ballets,  and  the  psychological  effect  of  their  activities, 
to  realise  that  they  outrage  human  dignity,  arousing 
only  the  paltriest  emotions,  of  an  effeminate  tendency, 
and  eliminating  the  elements  of  vigour,  initiative, 
courage,  aggression,  and  revolution  in  favour  of  a  sen- 
timental and  artificial  pretty-prettiness.  The  man 


How  to  Revive  Dancing          245 

plays  a  negligible  role  and  is  really  superfluous.  The 
stimulating  conflicts  between  resolution  and  weakness, 
doggedness  and  resignation,  masterful  love  and  tender- 
ness, struggles,  perilous  enterprises,  the  slow  but  sure 
advance  of  Progress,  the  overcoming  of  obstacles,  resist- 
ances, and  compunctions,  the  victories  over  self — all 
these  must  give  way  to  the  conventional  travesty  (or 
what  is  one  to  call  an  art  in  which  Siegfried,  Renaud, 
and  Tristan  are  represented  by  women?)  in  which  the 
man,  conscious  of  the  decadence  of  choreographic  art, 
dare  not  assert  his  virility,  nor  affirm  his  dignity  of 
authority,  nor  manifest  plastically  his  innate  aesthetic 
qualities,  the  instinct  for  domination  and  for  tenacious 
resistance.  What  more  repulsive  spectacle  can  there 
be  than  that  of  the  male  dancer  assuming  feminine 
graces?  The  eternal  conflict  of  the  sexes  must  be  the 
keynote  of  the  revival  of  the  dance,  and  the  latter  can 
only  recover  its  social  influence  and  character  of  human 
truth,  when  the  eternal  adversaries,  whose  oppositions 
and  reconciliations  form  the  basis  of  all  vital  dramatic 
art,  are  adequately  represented  and  staged. 

Who  can  doubt  but  that,  once  balance  has  been 
restored,  the  divers  nuances  of  expression  will  only 
appear  in  individuals  capable  of  feeling  emotion,  when 
brought  into  contact  with  art,  under  the  influence  of 
sincerely  felt  sensations  and  sentiments?  Part  of  the 
dancer's  education  will  have  to  be  devoted  to  his  nerv- 
ous system;  special  exercises  habituating  the  nerves 
to  transmit  the  orders  of  the  brain  to  the  limbs  en- 
trusted with  their  execution,  and  establishing  by  means 
of  rhythm  a  vital  and  regular  circulation — covering  all 
nuances  of  movement — between  the  divers  agents  of 


246    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

the  organism.  Numerous  automatic  movements  must 
be  created,  and  made  subservient  to  the  conscious  will, 
under  whose  direction  they  may  be  applied  or  with- 
held, combined,  opposed,  or  superposed.  The  sub- 
conscious manifestations  of  individuality  will  also  have 
to  be  developed,  while  not  overburdening  the  nervous 
system,  nor  destroying  the  plastic  harmony  of  the  organ- 
ism. Before  all  else,  the  plastic  interpreter  of  musi- 
cal emotions  must,  however,  be  made  capable,  by  virtue 
of  an  artistic  and  moral  training,  of  deeply  sensing 
these  emotions — for  any  attempt  at  expression  on  the 
part  of  one  not  genuinely  inspired  by  music  is  a  sham. 
.  .  .  Consider  the  admirable  Russian  dancers,  with 
their  fiery  temperament,  their  grace,  flexibility,  and 
undeniable  rhythmic  qualities — watch  them  on  occasion 
discard  their  dizzy  gyratory  effects,  to  bring  out  the 
lyric  essence  of  a  dramatic  situation !  Their  movement 
at  once  loses  all  ease  and  sincerity.  Sentiment  is  re- 
placed by  sentimentality,  natural  expression  by  grand- 
iloquence, each  gesture  of  passion,  shame,  desire, 
suffering,  is  exaggerated  to  an  extreme.  A  constant 
vibrato  animates  their  movements;  a  continuous  crude 
expansion  asserts  itself;  the  immodesty  of  simulated 
emotion  is  exposed  in  all  its  nakedness !  Does  this  mean 
that  the  dancers  lack  science,  tact,  and  intelligence? 
Not  in  the  least.  The  cause  of  this  exaggeration  of 
attitudes  and  gestures  is  the  lack  of  a  close  co-ordination 
between  their  sensibilities  and  those  of  the  musician. 
The  music  does  not  directly  re-act  on  their  sensitive 
faculties,  does  not  irresistibly  inspire  the  natural  means 
of  bodily  expression ;  they  are  unable  to  express  music, 
through  incapacity  to  take  it  in. 


How  to  Revive  Dancing         247 

The  interpreter  is  no  true  artist  unless  *he  is  capable 
not  only  of  giving,  but — once  having  received,  humbly 
and  joyfully,  the  "message"  of  the  work — of  creating 
anew  what  he  has  received,  and  of  conveying  to  others, 
transfused,  the  essence  of  that  message  and  of  himself. 

To  the  majority  of  ballet  dancers,  music  is  only  a 
pretext  for  decorative  effects  in  moving  plastic.  Beauty 
of  gesture  is  sought  in  no  other  interest  than  that  of 
the  aesthetic  application  of  their  physical  resources. 
They  do  not  realise  that  no  attitude  can  produce  an 
impression  of  sincerity  and  beauty,  unless  it  is  the 
product  of  a  state  of  mind — or  indeed,  of  soul.  The 
research  for  external  grace  excludes  every  effect  of 
simple  and  natural  beauty.  This  latter  is  the  product 
of  inner  physical  and  intellectual  effort,  tending  to  the 
pursuit  after  higher,  universal  elements.  Before  ex- 
pressing music,  the  dancer  should  be  capable  of  living, 
and  of  responding  to  its  impulses,  in  a  completely  dis- 
interested spirit.  The  body  is  never  so  beautiful  as 
when  reflecting  beauty  of  thought  and  the  spontaneous 
stimulus  of  life.  As  Wagner  said:  "Only  life  can 
create  a  real  need  for  art,  and  can  furnish  art  with 
both  matter  and  form." 

The  dancer-artist  should  make  use  of  his  whole 
body  in  expressing  his  emotions  through  music,  and, 
inversely,  in  expressing  music  through  his  emotions ;  it 
is  therefore  indispensable  not  only  that  all  his  limbs 
should  be  trained,  but  that  his  sensibility  and  musical 
intelligence  should  be  adequately  developed.  A  special 
education,  aiming  at  awakening  a  feeling  for  the  rela- 
tions between  movements  in  music  and  those  of  the 
muscular  and  nervous  system,  should  be  imposed  not 


248    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

only  on  dancers,  but  on  all  artists  pre-eminently  con- 
cerned with  rhythm,  e.  g.,  instrumentalists,  singers, 
producers,  and  conductors.  This  education  will  result 
in  the  formation  of  live  and  sensitive  beings,  in  control 
of  their  temperament,  and  capable  of  externalising  and 
refining  swift  and  acute  sensations,  and  of  understand- 
ing and  loving  the  music  whose  many  emotions  they 
are  set  to  interpret.  The  executive  artist  will  constitute 
no  longer  a  mere  instrument,  but  a  human  being,  capable 
of  conveying  his  feelings — or  the  feelings  of  others — in 
a  beautiful  form,  to  a  public  he  is  able  both  to  interest 
and  stimulate.  The  present  training  of  dancers  is  long 
and  arduous.  And  what  does  it  produce?  The  execu- 
tion by  the  legs  of  a  number  of  small,  quick — aud  ugly — 
movements  without  expression  or  delicacy;  the  power 
of  effecting  prodigious  leaps,  like  frogs,  and  revolutions 
like  spinning- tops !  In  arm  gestures,  as  we  have  already 
explained,  the  dancer  is  entirely  deficient;  adequate 
facial  and  ocular  play  can  never  be  achieved  so  long  as 
the  subject  is  uncultured  in  feeling  and  thought.  And 
even  the  acrobatic  dancing,  that  constitutes  the  triumph 
of  our  premieres  ballerines,  is  confined  to  flat  surfaces. 
As  we  have  pointed  out,  specialisation  in  exercises  of 
virtuosity  has  not  even  initiated  dancers  into  evolutions 
on  divers  forms  of  surfaces  and  on  staircases,  to  say 
nothing  of  walking  slowly  and  with  grace. 

If  only  we  had  the  enterprise — artists  and  public  alike 
— to  repudiate  the  anti-aesthetic  spectacles  so  consist- 
ently presented  to  us  on  the  operatic  stage !  If  only  our 
composers  and  conductors  had  the  courage  and  keenness 
to  insist  on  ballet  masters  learning  music  and  teaching 
it  to  their  dancers !  The  facts  speak  for  themselves :  the 


How  to  Revive  Dancing          249 

majority  of  dancers  concerned  with  interpreting  music 
do  not  know  their  notes,  or,  if  they  do,  have  no  real 
understanding  of  music,  of  the  intimate  relations  of 
which  with  plastic  art  they  are  completely  ignorant. 

Plastic  polyrhythm  is  unknown  in  our  ballet  dancing. 
The  art  of  contrasting  movements  and  attitudes  is  still 
in  an  embryonic  stage.  The  simultaneous  execution  of 
slow  movements  with  the  same  movements  at  double, 
triple,  or  quadruple  speed  has  never  been  attempted. 
The  nuances  produced  by  the  co-operation  of  a  large 
number  of  individualities  in  the  expression  of  a 
single  composite  emotion  cannot  be  achieved  so 
long  as  those  individualities  remain  incompletely  de- 
veloped, or  even,  as  is  often  the  case,  without  power 
of  expression. 

The  very  bodies  of  the  most  gifted  and  fully  trained 
dancers  are  hampered  in  their  strivings  towards  com- 
plete power  of  expression,  by  the  artificial  light,  devoid 
alike  of  subtlety  and  truth,  in  which  they  are  obliged 
to  execute  their  movements.  It  is  virtually  impossible 
for  them  to  express  themselves  plastically  without  the 
support  of  lighting  effects,  which  at  once  reveal,  and 
inspire  them,  creating  an  atmosphere  in  space  analo- 
gous to  that  created  by  the  play  of  music  in  time.  The 
present  system  allows  for  no  play  of  natural  shadows, 
no  contrast  of  delicate  movements  with  firmly  sil- 
houetted attitudes,  no  attempt  at  representing  a  cres- 
cendo by  a  gradation  from  darkness  to  light,  directly 
inspired  by  the  music — no  connection  between  the 
space  wherein  the  dancers  disport  themselves  and  the 
rhythms  they  execute,  between  the  respective  emotions 
created  by  the  environment  and  the  action. 


250    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

In  an  exhibition  of  dancing  to  which  several  arts 
collaborate  in  harmony  (moving  plastic,  music,  decora- 
tive staging)  it  is  highly  desirable  to  avoid  any  conflict 
between  the  artificial  and  the  real.  Reality  will  always 
hold  the  spectator's  attention  more  forcibly  than  arti- 
fice, making  the  latter  unsatisfactory  and  ridiculous. 
For  this  reason  the  three  dimensions  of  space  should 
never,  in  a  setting  for  dancing,  admit  of  an  imaginary 
perspective  of  the  painter's  creation — nor  will  the  real 
and  vivid  light  which  reveals  the  reality  and  vividness 
of  those  three  dimensions  in  moving  plastic  suffer  im- 
aginative lighting  effects  in  the  staging.  Similarly, 
the  rhythm  of  moving  plastic  should  be  spared  the 
competition  of  imaginary  but  fixed  movements  of 
statuary  and  painting.  Existing  stage  decoration  is 
the  mortal  enemy  of  real  rhythm  executed  by  the 
human  body  in  the  three  real  dimensions  of  space. 
Decoration  in  two  real  dimensions  and  a  fictitious  depth 
is  out  of  place  in  a  space  involving  real  depth;  while 
a  lighting  which  suppresses  shadows  compromises  the 
real  value  of  plastic  and  movement.  The  setting  for  a 
display  of  dancing  should  be  of  a  genuinely  plastic 
nature,  and  the  lighting,  the  aim  of  which  should  be  to 
reveal  the  bodily  rhythms  in  the  most  natural  way, 
should  fall  from  heaven,  or  break  from  the  horizon. 

Since  all  sources  of  expressive  movements  in  moving 
plastic  are  of  an  imaginative  nature,  a  direct  contact 
with  reality  should  not  be  permitted  to  compromise  the 
illusion  and  destroy  the  imaginative  effects  conveyed 
through  that  medium  of  expression.  The  illusion 
should  be  produced  by  the  expressive  action  confined 
to  time  and  space,  musical  atmosphere  and  light.  The 


How  to  Revive  Dancing          251 

flowers  a  dancer  stoops  to  pick  must  be  fictitious  and 
exist  only  in  his  imagination,  or  in  the  music  which 
dictates  the  gesture  of  picking  flowers;  neither  real  nor 
artificial  flowers  should  be  laid  on  the  ground.  The 
smell  of  these  fictitious  flowers  has  no  real  existence. 
You  may  convey  it  by  the  same  gestures  as  those  ex- 
pressive of  the  joy  of  breathing  the  fragrance  of  life; 
you  do  not  require  to  have  the  stage  sprinkled  with 
perfume!1  The  sources  of  joy,  sorrow,  despair,  and 
energy  have  no  real  existence  in  the  scenic  representa- 
tion of  these  passions,  or  at  least  exist  only  in  the  actor; 
but  all  the  impressions  which  have  moulded  his  thoughts 
and  feelings  are  expressed  by  his  attitude  and  move- 
ments, by  the  proportion  of  their  duration,  and  their 
accentuation,  by  the  combination  of  the  degrees  of 
lightness  and  weight  of  his  various  limbs,  and  by  the 
collaboration  of  his  muscles,  the  servants  of  his  tem- 
perament. In  that  sense  the  means  of  expression  are 
realistic,  and  anything  forming  part  of  the  setting, 
outside  space  and  light,  becomes  a  lie.  As  opposed  to 
pantomime,  which  cannot  dispense  with  real  objects, 
because  the  relations  between  man  and  his  environment 
are  therein  specialised  to  an  extreme,  natural  dancing 
generalises  feelings  and  emotions,  expressing  them  in 
their  elementary  form.  That  is  why  the  causes  of 
these  feelings  lose  their  intensity  in  being  made  mani- 
fest; their  meanness  renders  unconvincing  and  dispro- 
portionate the  lyric  grandeur  of  their  expression.  For 
example,  fear  in  face  of  the  dangers  of  nature  is  experi- 
enced by  all  human  beings ;  but  such  dangers,  as  repre- 
sented by  material  means  in  the  restricted  space  of  a 

1  As  in  certain  exhibitions  of  Dada  and  Negro  dancing,  and  the  like. 


252    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

stage,  can  only  admit  of  the  presence  of  individuals, 
not  of  mankind.  The  art  of  living  plastic  (the  Greek 
orchesis)  is  the  product  of  impression  transformed  into 
expression,  and  does  not  confine  itself  either  to  the 
concrete  or  the  abstract.  In  it  the  body  must  serve 
always  to  express  the  life  of  the  soul.  Consequently, 
thoughts  and  feelings  which  cannot  be  entirely  exter- 
nalised by  its  natural  motor  forces  are  outside  its 
province,  pertaining  to  that  of  the  conventional  thea- 
tre, which  is  concerned  with  the  individualisation  and 
specialisation  of  the  circumstances  and  forms  of  matter 
surrounding  the  individual. 

Dancing  must  be  completely  reformed ;  in  this,  as  in 
so  many  other  domains,  mere  ameliorative  measures 
seem  to  me  to  be  utterly  futile.  The  art  is  in  a  state 
of  decay,  and  must  be  rooted  out,  and  replaced  by  a 
new  one,  founded  on  principles  of  beauty,  purity,  sin- 
cerity, and  harmony.  Both  dancer  and  public  should 
be  trained  in  feeling  for  bodily  forms ;  the  courageous 
and  noble  efforts  of  Isadora  Duncan  and  her  disciples 
to  restore  plastic  purity,  by  the  idealisation  of  the 
qua  si-nudity  of  the  human  body,  must  not  be  allowed 
to  succumb  to  the  clamour  of  protests  from  hypocritical 
or  ignorant  Philistines.  Bodies  trained  in  the  refined 
realisation  of  rhythmic  sensations  must  learn  to  assimi- 
late thought  and  absorb  music — the  psychological  and 
idealising  factor  in  dancing.  Doubtless  it  will  be  pos- 
sible one  day,  when  music  has  become  ingrained  in 
the  body,  and  is  at  one  with  it,  when  the  human  organ- 
ism is  impregnated  with  the  many  rhythms  of  the 
emotions  of  the  soul,  and  only  requires  to  react  natur- 
ally to  express  them  plastically  by  a  process  of  trans- 


How  to  Revive  Dancing          253 

position,  in  which  only  appearances  are  changed — 
doubtless  it  will  be  possible  at  that  stage  to  dance, 
without  the  accompaniment  of  sounds.  The  body  will 
suffice  to  express  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  men,  and  will 
not  require  the  co-operation  of  instruments  to  dictate 
their  rhythms — itself  comprising  all  rhythms  and  ex- 
pressing them  naturally  in  movements  and  attitudes. 
Meanwhile,  the  body  must  submit  to  the  intimate  col- 
laboration of  music,  or  rather,  be  willing  to  yield,  with- 
out restriction,  to  the  discipline  of  sounds  in  all  their 
metrical  and  pathetic  accentuations,  adapting  their 
rhythms  to  its  own,  or,  better  still,  contriving  to  oppose 
plastic  to  sound  rhythms,  in  a  rich  counterpoint  never 
before  undertaken,  and  which  must  definitely  establish 
the  unity  of  gesture  and  symphony.  And  thus  the 
dance  of  to-morrow  will  become  a  medium  of  expres- 
sion and  poesy,  a  manifestation  of  art,  emotion,  and 
truth.  .  .  * 


CHAPTER  XII 
EURHYTHMICS  AND  MOVING  PLASTIC  (1919) 

The  art  of  the  Eurhythmist  is  self-sufficient — Analysis  of  the 
art  of  moving  plastic — Muscular  consciousness  and  instinct 
for  attitudes — Table  of  elements  common  to  music  and  moving 
plastic — Rhythms  musical  and  intellectual — Arhythm — Pos- 
sible amelioration  of  music-corporal  interpretations — Se- 
quence of  attitudes — L'Apres-midi  d'un  Faune,  Russian  ballet, 
and  continuous  movement —  Visual  and  muscular  experiences. 

Classification  of  elements  common  to  moving  plastic  and 
music — Dynamics — Agogics  (division  of  time] — Division  of 
space — Relations  between  time  and  space — Division  of  time 
and  space  in  relation  to  the  situation  of  the  individual  in 
space — Sequence  of  gestures — Gestures  from  the  (esthetic  point 
of  view — Plastic  and  musical  value  of  gesture — Gestures  of 
groups — Rhythm  and  human  society. 


255 


bfl 


CHAPTER  XII 

EURHYTHMICS  AND  MOVING  PLASTIC  (1919) 

RHYTHMICS  aims  at  the  bodily  representation  of  musi- 
cal values,  by  means  of  a  special  training  tending  to 
muster  in  ourselves  the  elements  necessary  for  this 
representation — which  is  no  more  than  the  spontaneous 
externalisation  of  mental  attitudes  dictated  by  the  same 
emotions  that  animate  music.  If  the  expression  of 
the  emotions  does  not  directly  react  on  our  sensorial 
faculties,  and  produce  a  correspondence  between  sound 
rhythms  and  our  physical  rhythms,  and  between  their 
expulsive  force  and  our  sensibility,  our  plastic  exter- 
nalisation will  become  mere  imitation.  It  is  this  that 
distinguishes  eurhythmies  from  the  old  systems  of  callis- 
thenics, musical  drill,  and  dancing.  All  external  effects 
of  corporal  expression,  born  of  an  understanding  of 
rhythmic  movement  and  music,  are  the  inevitable 
product  of  a  state  of  emotion  quite  free  from  aesthetic 
ambition.  Their  manifestation  satisfies  the  exigencies 
of  art,  since  art  consists  of  magnifying  ideas  and  emo- 
tions, and  giving  them  a  decorative  form  and  style, 
while  developing  their  vital  qualities  and  rendering 
them  susceptible  of  communication  to  others.  The 
eurhythmist  is  he  who  both  creates  (or  re-creates)  artis- 
tic emotion,  and  experiences  it.  In  him,  sensation 
humanises  the  idea,  and  the  idea  spiritualises  sensation. 
17  257 


258    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

In  the  laboratory  of  his  organism  a  transmutation  is 
effected,  turning  the  creator  into  both  actor  and  spec- 
tator of  his  own  composition. 

If,  once  having  achieved  the  corporal  representation 
of  musical  rhythms  (by  means  of  the  transformation  of 
metaphysical  sensation  into  manifestations  of  a  muscu- 
lar order  and  vice  versa),  the  eurhythmist  tries  to  modify 
these  effects  so  as  to  externalise  their  form  and  impress 
them  visually  on  the  spectator,  the  eurhythmic  training 
changes  its  character  and  assumes  an  aesthetic  and  social 
significance.  [And  the  pursuit  of  perfection  in  the  inter- 
pretation, via  the  body,  of  musical  emotions  and  feel- 
ings, enters  the  region  of  what,  as  distinct  from  the 
arts  of  painting  and  sculpture,  we  may  call  moving  or 
living  plastic!},  Eurhythmic  exercises  enable  the  indi- 
vidual to  feel  and  express  music  corporally,  for  his  own 
pleasure,  thus  constituting  in  themselves  a  complete 
art,  in  touch  with  life  and  movement.  A  training  in 
moving  plastic  renders  the  eurhythmic  mediums  of  ex- 
pression more  harmonious  and  decorative,  and  refines 
gestures  and  attitudes  by  a  process  of  successive 
eliminations.  * 

The  conventional  ballet  training  concentrates  on  har- 
mony and  grace  of  corporal  movements,  without  insisting 
upon  the  particular  mental  state,  inevitably  conducive 

1  We  have  often  remarked  that  Eurhythmies  cannot  he  judged  from 
the  mere  sight  of  movements  executed  by  its  students.  Eurhythmies 
constitutes  an  eminently  individual  experience.  Moving  plastic  is  a 
complete  art  directly  addressed  to  the  eyes  of  spectators,  although 
directly  experienced  by  its  exponents.  The  impressions  of  a  Eurhythm- 
ist may  be  conveyed  to  spectators  particularly  sensitive  to  the  "feeling 
of  movement";  the  plastic  artist  aims  at  conveying  his  impressions  to 
the  public. 


Eurhythmies  and  Moving  Plastic  259 

to  these  movements,  on  the  part  of  the  dancer.  Edu- 
cation by  and  in  rhythm  aims,  before  all  else,  at  produc- 
ing in  the  student  a  psycho-physical  sensibility,  calcu- 
lated at  once  to  create  the  need  and  furnish  the  means 
of  spontaneously  externalising  musical  rhythms  genu- 
inely felt,  and  interpreting  them  by  any  means  inspired 
by  a  perfect  knowledge  of  the  relations  of  space,  time, 
and  weight.  The  conventional  dancer  adapts  music  to 
his  particular  technique  and  a  number — in  reality  very 
restricted — of  automatisms;  the  eurhythmist  lives  this 
music,  makes  it  his  own — his  movements  quite  natur- 
ally interpreting  it.  A  training  in  moving  plastic  will 
also  teach  him  to  select,  among  these  movements,  those 
most  expressive  and  suitable  for  producing  effects  of  a 
decorative  order  which  will  convey  to  the  spectator 
the  feelings  and  sensations  which  have  inspired  them. 
The  main  thing  is  that  the  emotions,  which  have  in- 
spired the  sound  rhythms  and  the  form  in  which  they 
have  taken  shape  (also  the  processes  of  a  geometrical 
and  architectural  order  which  have  determined  the 
harmonies  and  developments),  should  be  reproduced 
in  their  plastic  representation,  and  that  the  same  life 
force  should  animate  sound  music  and  the  music  of 
gesture  alike. 

Once  the  limbs  are  trained,  once  the  senses  and  mind 
have  been  awakened  by  rhythm,  the  nervous  resistances 
eliminated,  and  the  divers  forces  of  the  organism  con- 
nected by  a  continuous  and  powerful  current,  it  becomes 
necessary  to  complete  the  muscular  sense,  the  feeling 
for  space  and  familiarity  with  its  laws — as  well  as  that 
for  shades  of  time — by  the  acquisition  of  aesthetic 
qualities  and  of  the  instinct  for  divining  the  results 


260    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

certain  movements  will  produce  on  others,  and  which 
enable  the  plastic  artist  to  "realise"  with  his  limbs 
gestures  and  attitudes  he  has  previously  imagined. 
Placed  before  a  mirror,  he  should  see  reflected  the  per- 
fect plastic  expression  of  a  preconceived  ensemble  of 
lines  and  curves;  for,  just  as  merely  being  musical  will 
not  enable  a  man  to  create  music,  so  the  mere  possession 
of  a  feeling  for  plastic  beauty  and  emotion  will  not 
suffice  to  transpose  emotion  and  beauty  into  external 
forms  of  physical  movement.  While  acuteness  of  visual 
powers  and  a  cultivated  decorative  sense  enable  a 
draughtsman  to  convey  graphically  the  beauty  of  the 
human  body  in  movement,  these  qualities  will  by  no 
means  serve  to  enable  him  to  represent  those  move- 
ments through  the  medium  of  his  own  body.  For  that 
purpose  he  will  have  to  acquire,  by  means  of  a  special 
training,  the  inward  sense  of  decorative  line  and  form, 
balance  and  dynamism,  necessary  for  plastic  repre- 
sentation. 

Every  visual  or  auditive  activity  begins  with  a  simple 
registration  of  images  and  sounds,  and  the  receptive 
faculties  of  eye  and  ear  will  only  develop  an  aesthetic 
activity  when  the  muscular  sense  is  sufficiently  devel- 
oped to  convert  the  sensations  so  registered  into  move- 
ment. As  we  have  said  elsewhere,  and  frequently, 
movement  is  the  basis  of  all  the  arts,  and  no  artistic 
culture  is  possible  without  a  previous  study  of  the  forms 
of  movement  and  a  thorough  training  of  our  motor-tac- 
tile faculties.  It  was  this  discovery  that  led  us  to  pre- 
cede lessons  in  solf  ege  by  a  training  of  the  nervous  and 
muscular  systems,  according  to  the  laws  of  time  and 
rhythm;  the  same  phenomenon  shows  us  the  danger  of 


Eurhythmies  and  Moving  Plastic  261 

undertaking  the  study  of  moving  plastic  (corporal  sol- 
fege)  without  reiterated  experiences  tending  to  the 
acquisition  of  a  host  of  qualities  producing  collectively 
a  feeling  for  space  in  time,  and  time  in  space,  by  means 
of  movement. 

A  point  is  reached  when  moving  plastic  becomes 
completely  musicalised  by  the  study  of  the  multiple 
elements  of  an  agogic  and  dynamic  nature  which  consti- 
tute the  expressive  language  of  sound.  It  will  then 
seek  to  create  forms  of  movement  at  once  decorative 
and  expressive,  without  resort  to  sound,  by  the  exclusive 
aid  of  its  own  music.  Doubtless  these  mediums  of 
musical  expression  can  never  become  really  complete 
without  the  co-operation  of  whole  groups  of  people, 
for  it  is  a  matter  not  only  of  endowing  the  human  body 
with  all  the  divers  mediums  of  expression,  possessed  by 
the  art  of  music,  and  of  making  that  body  the  direct 
agent  of  thought  and  creative  emotion — but  also  of  har- 
monising and  orchestrating  several  bodies  in  movement. 

The  elements  common  to  music  and  the  modern 
ballet  are  exclusively  time  and,  more  or  less  as  an  ac- 
cessory, rhythm.  The  elements  common  to  music  and 
moving  plastic  are : 

Music  Moving  Plastic 

Pitch  Position  and  direction  of  ges- 

tures in  space 

Intensity  of  sound  Muscular  dynamics 

Timbre  Diversity  in  corporal  forms 

(the  sexes) 

Duration  Duration 

Time  Time 

Rhythm  Rhythm 


262     Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 


Music 


Rests 
Melody 


Counterpoint 
Chords 

Harmonic  successions 


Phrasing 
Construction  (form) 

Orchestration  (vide  timbre) 


Moving  Plastic 

Pauses 

Continuous  succession  of  iso- 
lated movements 

Opposition  of  movements 

Arresting  of  associated  ges- 
tures (or  gestures  in  groups) 

Succession  of  associated 
movements  (or  of  gestures 
in  groups) 

Phrasing 

Distribution  of  movements  in 
space  and  time 

Opposition  and  combination 
of  divers  corporal  forms 
(the  sexes) 


All  the  rhythmic  elements  in  music  were  originally 
formed  after  the  rhythms  of  the  human  body;  but  in 
course  of  time  the  types  and  their  combinations  were 
varied  and  multiplied  to  the  point  of  spiritualising 
music,  and  their  muscular  origin  was  eventually  lost 
sight  of.  The  body  became  unaccustomed  to  them  in 
proportion  as  the  preponderance  of  purely  intellectual 
education  increased;  and  so  it  has  come  about  that 
the  majority  of  rhythmic  models  taken  from  modern 
music,  even  ballet  music,  are  no  longer  capable  of 
interpretation  by  the  body.  Certain  types  of  music 
may  be  associated  with  bodily  movements,  but  not  vi- 
tally interpreted  by  them,  nor  what  one  may  call  plasti- 
cally transposed.  In  our  ballets,  sound  movements 
are  developed  concurrently  with  corporal  movements; 
the  music  acts  as  an  accompaniment,  and  not  as  a  col- 


Eurhythmies  and  Moving  Plastic  263 

laborator;  it  neither  inspires,  penetrates,  nor  animates 
the  gestures,  movements,  and  attitudes.  That  is  why 
so-called  "classical"  dancing  does  not  constitute  a  com- 
plete art,  nor  contribute  to  the  progress  of  the  art.  In 
fact,  the  ballet  dancer  possesses  intuitively  neither  in- 
tellectual nor  physical  rhythms,  his  virtuosity  being 
formed  from  a  combination  of  automatisms  that  his 
emotion  cannot  replace,  at  will,  by  spontaneous  rhythm- 
ic manifestations.  The  composer  of  ballet  music,  for 
his  part,  has  only  intellectual  rhythms  at  his  disposal, 
and  these  are  likewise  automatised  to  such  a  pitch 
that  he  cannot  interrupt  a  development  of  a  purely 
musical  character  in  his  score  in  favour  of  spontaneous 
rhythms,  of  a  corporal  origin.  Dancer  and  musician 
alike  are  slaves  of  time,  as  unversed  in  nuances  of  time- 
duration,  as  in  the  dynamic  relations  of  sound  and  cor- 
poral movements.  The  composer  may  observe  the 
conventional  musical  rhythms,  but  is  a-rhythmic  from 
a  muscular  point  of  view.  The  dancer,  for  the  most 
part,  is  a-rhythmic  both  from  the  muscular  and  musical 
points  of  view,  for  lack  of  an  education  that  would 
enable  him  both  to  break  his  automatisms  (or  adapt 
them  to  modifications  of  time-duration),  and  to  incor- 
porate and  later  externalise  sound  rhythms  with  com- 
plete ease  and  flexibility.  Let  me  explain  what  I  mean : 
To  be  a-rhythmic  is  to  be  incapable  of  following  a 
movement  in  the  exact  time  required  for  its  normal 
execution ;  to  hurry  it  here  or  delay  it  there  instead  of 
keeping  it  at  a  uniform  pace,  not  to  know  how  to  accel- 
erate it  when  acceleration  is  necessary,  or  to  draw  it 
out  when  protraction  is  necessary;  to  make  it  rough 
and  jerky  instead  of  smooth  and  continuous,  and  vice 


264    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

versa;  to  commence  or  finish  too  late  or  too  soon;  not 
to  be  able  to  link  a  movement  of  one  sort  on  to  a  move- 
ment of  another  sort — a  slow  to  a  quick,  a  flexible  to  a 
rigid,  a  vigorous  to  a  gentle,  movement;  to  be  incapable 
of  executing  simultaneously  two  or  more  conflicting 
movements  nor  to  know  how  to  shade  a  movement, 
that  is,  to  execute  it  in  an  imperceptible  gradation 
from  piano  to  forte,  and  vice  versa,  or  to  accentu- 
ate it  metrically  or  patnetically  at  the  points  fixed 
by  the  requisites  of  the  musical  shape  or  emotion. 
All  these  deficiencies,  without  exception,  may  be  at- 
tributed either  to  inability  of  the  brain  to  issue  its 
orders  sufficiently  promptly  to  the  muscles  responsible 
for  the  execution  of  the  movement,  inability  of  the 
nervous  system  to  transmit  these  orders  accurately  and 
smoothly  to  the  right  quarters,  or  inability  of  the 
muscles  to  execute  them  infallibly.  A-rhythm  arises, 
then,  from  a  lack  of  harmony  and  co-ordination  be- 
tween the  conception  and  the  execution  of  the  move- 
ment, and  from  the  nervous  irregularity  that,  in  some 
cases,  produces,  and,  in  others,  is  the  product  of,  this 
dis-harmony.  With  some  people,  the  brain  may  con- 
ceive the  rhythms  normally  enough,  having  inherited 
a  supply  of  clear  and  distinct  rhythmic  images,  but 
the  limbs,  while  perfectly  capable  of  executing  these 
rhythms,  are  hampered  by  a  disordered  nervous  system. 
Others  suffer  from  the  inability  of  their  limbs  to  exe- 
cute the  perfectly  distinct  orders  of  the  brain,  and  this 
ineffectual  nervous  functioning  eventually  produces  a 
breakdown  of  the  system.  With  others  again,  who 
possess  perfectly  sound  nerves  and  muscles,  the  clear 
registration,  in  the  brain,  of  durable  images  is  impeded 


Eurhythmies  and  Moving  Plastic  265 

by  inadequate  education  in  rhythm.  The  object  of 
rhythmic  training  is  to  regulate  the  natural  rhythms  of 
the  body  and,  by  their  automatization,  to  create  definite 
rhythmic  images  in  the  brain. 


Some  considerable  time  must  elapse  before  the 
desired  renaissance  of  rhythm  in  music  can  be  accom- 
plished, x  but  I  claim  that  a  relatively  short  time  should 
suffice  for  a  rhythmic  training  to  reform  musical,  dra- 
matic, and  choreographic  interpretations.  In  the  first 
place,  theatrical  performers — actors,  singers,  and  danc- 
ers— who  undergo  a  course  of  such  rhythmic  training 
should  at  once  realise  that,  without  it,  a  satisfactory 
and  rhythmic  musical  expression  is  out  of  the  question. 
Nine  tenths  of  the  auditors  of  an  opera  are  unaware  of 
the  constant  conflict  between  the  orchestra  and  the 
action.  Singers  and  dancers  alike  impose  their  ges- 
tures and  attitudes,  utterly  regardless  of  time,  on  music 
which  either  they  do  not  understand,  or  else  they 
understand  imperfectly.  Their  feet  are  set  in  motion 
when  they  should  remain  stationary,  their  arms  are 
raised  when  they  should  be  motionless,  their  bodies  no 
more  harmonise  with  the  music  than  would  their 
throats  if  they  sang  out  of  tune  or  time,  or  suddenly 
began  an  air  from  another  opera,  while  the  orchestra 
continued  to  play  from  the  original  score!  And  these 
deficiencies  are  the  product  alike  of  the  clumsiness  of 
limbs  ill-trained  in  rhythm  and  of  mind  insufficiently 
cultivated,  and  consequently  ignorant  of  the  intimate 
relationships  between  movements  in  space  and  move- 

1  See  Chap.  VII,  p.  145:  "  Eurhythmies  and  Musical  Composition." 


266    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

ments  in  time.  I  challenge  any  singer,  be  he  the  great- 
est genius  in  the  world,  to  interpret  plastically  and  with 
rhythmic  feeling  the  simplest  music,  before  he  has 
undergone  a  special  education  designed  to  make  his 
muscular  actions  correspond  with  sound  movements.1 
This  training  should  be  accorded  all  operatic  singers  of 
the  future,  and  should  be  taken  in  conjunction  with 
their  vocal  training.  The  results  would  be  such,  I  am 
persuaded,  as  to  make 'it  appear  incredible  that  at  any 
time  the  study  of  corporal  rhythms  should  not  have 
formed  part  of  their  dramatic  training. 

This  rhythmic  training  should  likewise  have  a  place 
in  the  education  of  conductors,  producers,  and  operatic 
composers,  who  should  be  initiated  into  the  many  re- 
sources of  that  most  expressive  instrument,  the  human 
body,  before  attempting  to  set  it  music  to  interpret. 
The  relations  between  sound  rhythms  and  plastic 
rhythms  must  also  be  taught  all  dancers,  whose  art, 
as  foreshadowed  by  Gretry,  Schiller,  Goethe,  Schopen- 
hauer, and  Wagner,  will  thereby  be  ennobled,  made  at 
the  same  time  human  and  more  poetic,  and  will  cease 
to  be  what  it  is  to-day — a  mere  amusement  for  the  legs, 
devoid  alike  of  intellectual  value,  aesthetic  or  musical 
feeling,  and  social  or  artistic  interest. 

But  ignorance  of  musical  rhythm  is  not  the  only 
cause  of  the  inferiority  of  artistic  manifestations  in 
which  the  body  plays  a  part.  Another  mistake  which 
tends  to  discount  the  sovereign  importance  of  the  body 
in  our  stage  performances  consists  in  taking  as  models 

1  The  dissociation  of  movements  of  the  larynx  from  those  of  the  limbs 
is  even  more  difficult  to  achieve  than  that  of  arms,  legs,  and  head. 


Eurhythmies  and  Moving  Plastic  267 

for  bodily  movements  attitudes  stereotyped  by  painters 
and  sculptors. 

Often  when  present  at  displays  of  dancing,  frantic- 
ally applauded  by  eminently  artistic  spectators,  I  have 
wondered  why  my  musical  taste  was  offended,  and  why, 
despite  the  undoubted  talent  of  the  performer,  a  feeling 
of  discomfort  was  awakened  in  me,  as  well  as  an  im- 
pression of  something  artificial,  something  prepared 
and  unnatural.  I  have  heard  painters,  endowed  with 
admirable  judgment,  express  their  enthusiasm  at  the 
splendour  of  the  attitudes,  the  refinement  of  the  ges- 
tures, the  harmony  of  the  groupings,  and  the  audacity 
of  the  acrobatic  movements ;  and  while  admitting  these 
qualities,  while  bowing  before  so  much  artistic  feeling, 
sincerity,  ability,  and  knowledge,  I  could  not  bring 
myself  to  feel  the  slightest  aesthetic  emotion,  and  could 
only  accuse  myself  of  coldness,  lack  of  understanding, 
and  philistinism. 

A  production  of  Debussy's  U  Aprds-midi  d*un  Faune 
a  few  years  ago  revealed  to  me  the  cause  of  my  mis- 
givings and  distaste.  A  procession  of  nymphs  moved 
slowly  on  to  the  stage,  pausing  every  eight  or  twelve 
steps  to  enable  their  charming  attitudes  (copied  from 
Greek  vases)  to  be  adequately  admired.  On  continuing 
their  march  in  the  last  attitude  assumed,  they  would 
attack  the  following  attitude — at  the  moment  of  the 
fresh  pause  in  walking — without  any  preparatory  move- 
ment, thus  giving  the  jerky  impression  that  would  be 
conveyed  at  the  cinema  by  a  series  of  movements  from 
which  the  essential  portions  of  the  film  had  been  sup- 
pressed. I  then  understood  that  what  shocked  me 
was  the  lack  of  connection  which  should  be  present  in 


268    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

every  manifestation  of  life  heightened  by  thought. 
The  exquisite  attitudes  of  the  Greek  nymphs  followed 
each  other  without  any  attempt  at  linking  them  by  a 
human  and  natural  process.  They  formed  a  series  of 
pictures,  most  artistic  in  effect,  but  voluntarily  deprived 
of  all  the  advantages  obtained  by  time-duration — I 
mean  continuity,  the  potentialities  of  slow  development, 
the  easy  preparation  and,  as  it  were,  inevitable  climax 
of  plastic  movement  in  space — all  of  them  essentially 
musical  elements,  and  which  alone  assure  truth  and 
naturalness  to  the  union  of  gesture  and  music. 

Guided  by  this  experience,  I  analysed  in  the  same 
way  the  movements  of  various  dancers  of  the  highest 
distinction,  and  noted  that  those  among  them  who 
were  most  truly  musicians,  while  endeavouring  to  fol- 
low the  pattern  of  the  music  in  the  most  scrupulous 
manner,  had  no  more  regard  for  the  principle  of  con- 
tinuity of  movement  and  of  plastic  phrasing  than  the 
nymphs  mentioned  above.  I  mean  that  in  the  play  of 
their  limbs  the  point  of  departure  was  the  attitude  and 
not  the  movement  itself. 

Musicians  will  follow  me:  in  compositions  of  a  con- 
trapuntal nature,  the  lines  of  the  polyphony  are  not 
embroidered  on  a  canvas  formed  of  chords,  chosen, 
fixed,  and  linked  together  in  advance.  On  the  contrary, 
the  chords  depend  on  the  outlines  and  patterns  of  the 
melody.  The  ear  does  not  sense  and  analyse  them  as 
such,  until  the  parts  cease  moving  and  become  sus- 
tained notes.  In  moving  plastic  the  same  thing  should 
happen.  Attitudes  are  pauses  in  the  movement.  Every 
time  that,  in  the  uninterrupted  sequence  of  movements 
forming  what  might  be  called  the  "plastic  melody,"  a 


Eurhythmies  and  Moving  Plastic  269 

punctuation  mark  is  inserted,  a  pause  corresponding 
to  a  comma,  semicolon,  or  full  stop  in  speech,  the 
movement  becomes  static  and  is  perceived  as  an 
attitude. 

But  the  real  perception  of  movement  is  not  visual: 
it  is  muscular,  and  the  living  symphony  of  steps,  ges- 
tures, and  consecutive  attitudes  is  formed  and  con- 
trolled not  by  the  agent  of  mere  appreciation — the 
eye,  but  by  that  of  creation:  the  whole  muscular 
apparatus.  Under  the  action  of  spontaneous  feelings 
and  irresistible  emotions  the  body  vibrates,  starts  into 
movement,  and  eventually  assumes  an  attitude.  The 
latter  is  the  direct  product  of  the  movements  which 
prepare  it,  whereas  in  choreographic  art  of  the  present 
day,  movement  is  only  a  bridge  connecting  two  differ- 
ent attitudes.  Thus  there  exists,  in  the  art  of  dancing, 
as  at  present  understood  in  our  theatres,  a  confusion 
between  visual  and  muscular  experience.  Dancers1 
choose  models  for  their  attitudes  among  masterpieces 
of  sculpture  or  of  painting,  and  take  inspiration  from 
Greek  frescoes,  statues,  and  paintings,  ignoring  the 
fact  that  these  works  are  themselves  the  product  of  a 
special  cultivation  of  style — of  a  sort  of  compromise  be- 
tween the  relations  of  movements,  a  series  of  diminu- 
tions and  sacrifices  which  have  enabled  their  creators 
to  convey  the  illusion  of  movement  by  synthetic  means. 
But  if  it  be  necessary  for  the  plastic  arts,  deprived  of 
the  help  of  the  time  element,  to  produce  a  synthesis  by 
means  of  fixed  corporal  attitudes,  it  is  against  truth 

1  In  several  of  her  plastic  interpretations,  Isadora  Duncan  instinc- 
tively surrenders  her  body  to  continuous  movement,  and  these  are 
always  the  most  vital  and  stimulating  of  her  dances. 


270     Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

and  nature  for  the  dancer  to  adapt  this  synthesis  as 
the  starting-point  of  his  dance,  and  to  try  and  re-create 
the  illusion  of  movement  by  juxtaposing  series  of  atti- 
tudes, linked,  each  to  its  neighbour,  by  gestures,  instead 
of  resorting  to  the  source  of  plastic  expression — which 
is  movement  itself. 

Specialists  in  the  visual  arts  may  be  justified  in 
appreciating  the  present  mode  of  dancing  which,  with 
the  magic  of  colours,  the  startling  contrasts  of  lighting, 
and  with  the  help — as  it  were  non-material — of  the 
flowing  lines  of  light  or  heavy  drapery  and  costume 
satisfies  the  most  refined  decorative  exigencies,  and 
furnishes  the  eye  with  an  exquisitely  picturesque  enjoy- 
ment. But  is  this  enjoyment  of  a  spiritual  and  emotive 
order?  Is  it  the  real  and  direct  product  of  deep  and 
sincere  feelings?  And  completely  as  it  satisfies  our 
yearning  for  aesthetic  pleasure,  does  it  saturate  us  with 
the  creative  emotion  of  the  work? 

Bodily  movements  are  a  muscular  experience,  and 
are  appreciated  by  a  sixth — the  "muscular" — sense, 
which  controls  the  multiple  nuances  of  force  and  speed 
of  those  movements  in  a  manner  appropriate  to  the 
emotions  that  inspire  them,  and  which  will  enable  the 
human  mechanism  to  refine  those  emotions,  thus  ren- 
dering dancing  a  complete  and  essentially  human  art. 

Eurhythmies  undoubtedly  is  based  on  muscular  ex- 
perience, and  eurhythmicians  watching  exercises  per- 
formed by  fellow-students  do  not  follow  them  merely 
with  the  eye,  but  actually  with  their  whole  being. 
They  enter  into  close  communion  with  the  spectacle 
they  are  watching,  experiencing  thereby  a  joy  of  a 
peculiar  nature,  and  a  yearning  to  move,  to  vibrate  in 


Eurhythmies  and  Moving  Plastic  271 

Tinison  with  those  they  see  expressing  themselves  in 
physical  movement.  In  short,  they  feel  awakening  and 
palpitating  in  them  a  mysterious  music,  which  is  the 
direct  product  of  their  feelings  and  sensations.  This 
music  of  the  individuality  would  suffice  to  control 
human  movements  if  mankind  had  not  lost  that  sense 
of  order  and  of  the  shading  of  physical  expression, 
without  which  a  revival  of  the  dance  can  never  be 
achieved.  There  is  no  tradition  of  corporal  movements, 
and,  as  we  have  seen,  modern  dancers  borrow  from  the 
fine  arts  a  cult  of  attitude  which  substitutes  intellec- 
tual experiences  for  spontaneous  feelings,  and  relegates 
dancing  to  a  secondary  plane  in  the  realm  of  art.  There 
is  only  one  way  of  restoring  to  the  body  the  complete 
scale  of  its  means  of  expression,  and  that  is  to  submit 
it  to  an  intensive  musical  culture,  to  give  it  complete 
control  of  all  its  powers  of  dynamic  and  agogic  expres- 
sion, and  the  power  to  feel  all  shades  of  tone-music  and 
express  them  muscularly.  A  special  education  will  lib- 
erate the  music  imprisoned  in  the  soul  of  the  artist — 
the  individual  music  that,  entering  into  and  fusing 
with  the  music  to  be  interpreted,  gives  it  an  increasing 
life,  so  much  so  that  the  individual  rhythms  of  all  the 
interpreters  of  a  choreographic  work  achieve  a  collec- 
tive emotion  that  is  the  very  genesis  of  style.  As 
Elisee  Reclus  puts  it:  "The  people,  of  which  we  form 
part,  moves  in  consistent  rhythm;  in  each  of  us  an 
inner  music,  the  cadences  of  which  resound  in  our 
breasts,  controls  the  vibrations  of  our  flesh,  the  move- 
ments of  our  steps,  the  impulses  of  passion,  even  the 
course  of  our  thoughts;  and  all  these  activities  have 
only  to  unite  in  one  harmony  for  a  multiple  organism 


272    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

to  be  constituted,  comprising  a  whole  crowd,  and  giving 
it  a  single  soul." 

This  is  not  the  place  to  analyse  in  detail  all  the  ele- 
ments indicated  above  as  being  common  to  music  and 
plastic;  nor  to  set  out  all  the  exercises  designed  to 
awaken  in  the  mind  the  sense  of  a  fusion  of  these  two 
arts,  superficially  so  different.  I  would  commend  to 
the  reader,  desirous  of  familiarising  himself  with  these 
exercises,  my  book  on  Moving  Plastic, x  and  will  here 
confine  myself  to  establishing  certain  fundamental  rela- 
tions between  the  two  essential  musico-plastic  elements. 
(i)  Dynamics  (so-called) — that  is,  the  science  of  grada- 
tions of  force;  (2)  Agogics  (time-division) — that  is,  the 
science  of  gradations  of  speed.  This  latter  involves  a 
further  element,  (3)  the  division  of  space,  these  two  con- 
ceptions being  inseparable  in  defining  movement. 

It  goes  without  saying  that  the  dynamic  is  closely 
related  to  the  agogic  element,  and  that  the  gradations 
of  force  are  often  inseparable  from  those  of  speed  or 
slowness.  But,  for  the  sake  of  accuracy,  we  will  con- 
sider each  of  these  two  concepts  separately  in  the 
following  tentative  essay  in  classification.  This  classifi- 
cation does  not  claim  to  be  definitive,  nor  to  comprise 
the  whole  of  the  questions  relating  to  plastic.  It  is 
intended  simply  as  a  lucid,  if  abstract,  exposition  of 
the  fundamental  elements  of  moving  plastic  and  their 
relations  to  music.  These  two  arts,  plastic  and  music, 
being  essentially  of  a  dynamic  nature,  it  is  natural 
that  a  study  of  the  gradations  of  movement  should  be 

1  Exercises  de  plastique  animee.  Lausanne:  Jobin  &  Cie,  London; 
Novello  &  Co.,  160  Wardour  St.  W. 


Eurhythmies  and  Moving  Plastic   273 

based  on  music.  We  will  therefore  designate  as  "mu- 
sical movement,"  every  movement  conforming  to  the 
dynamic  laws  that  govern  music. 

DYNAMICS 

The  function  of  dynamics  in  music  is  to  vary  the 
gradations  of  force  and  weight  of  sounds,  whether 
abruptly,  by  the  effect  of  sudden  contrasts,  or  progres- 
sively, by  crescendo  and  decrescendo. 

The  instrumentalist,  entrusted  with  the  interpreta- 
tion of  these  musical-dynamic  gradations,  must  possess 
the  mechanism  necessary  for  producing  sound  in  all 
its  degrees  of  force — for  increasing  and  diminishing  it 
according  to  the  composer's  intentions.  Where  the 
instrument  chosen  for  the  interpretation  of  music  is 
the  whole  human  body,  this  body  must  have  acquired 
a  perfect  knowledge  of  its  muscular  potentialities,  and 
be  capable  of  consciously  exercising  them.  This  will 
necessitate  a  profound  study  of  technique  in  relation  to 
musical  dynamics:  a  training  in  the  differentiation  of 
joints,  of  which  each  must  be  exercised  separately;  a 
training  in  muscular  contraction  and  decontraction  of 
the  whole  body,  or  of  one  of  its  limbs,  or  indeed  of  two 
or  more  limbs,  operating  with  conflicting  muscular  gra- 
dations; finally,  a  training  in  balance,  flexibility,  and 
elasticity. 

In  the  majority  of  gymnastic  systems  of  a  hygienic 
or  athletic  character,  dynamics  dispenses  with  the  help 
of  agogics — that  is  to  say,  the  movements  are  practised 
qud  movements,  the  instructors  paying  insufficient  re- 
gard to  the  modifications  introduced  by  differences  of 


18 


274    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

time-duration  in  the  preparation  for  muscular  activities. 
As  will  be  seen  from  the  succeeding  section  treating 
of  the  division  of  space  by  relation  to  division  of  time, 
it  is  only  by  the  practice  of  special  exercises  that  one 
is  enabled  to  precede  any  corporal  movement  by  a 
precise  preparation  ensuring  its  perfect  execution. 

The  precise  preparation  and  linking  together  of  move- 
ments depend  on  the  harmony  of  the  nervous  system. 
A  good  gymnast  is  not  necessarily  a  eurhythmician  and 
plastic  artist.  The  training  in  corporal  dynamics 
should  therefore  be  completed  by  a  study  of  the  laws  of 
agogics  (division  of  time)  and  of  the  division  of  space. 

DIVISION  OF  TIME  ("AGOGICS")  AND  DIVISION  OF 

SPACE 

The  function  of  agogics  in  music  is  to  introduce  va- 
riations in  the  duration  of  time,  and  to  shade  sounds 
in  all  degrees  of  speed,  whether  metrically  (by  a  mathe- 
matic  division  of  each  sound  into  fractions  of  a  half, 
third,  quarter,  eighth,  etc.,  of  its  time-value)  or  patheti- 
cally (by  pauses — rubato,  accelerando,  rallentando,  etc.). 

Of  all  organic  agents  of  agogic  expression,  the  ringers 
are  the  best  qualified  to  interpret  quick  passages — far 
better  than  the  wrist  that  guides  the  violinist's  bow,  or 
the  feet  that  operate  the  pedals  of  the  organ.  The 
aptest  instrument  for  the  execution  of  very  slow  sounds 
is  the  breathing  apparatus  productive  of  the  music  of 
the  voice  and  wind  instruments.  The  whole  human 
body  constitutes  the  ideal  musical  instrument  that  is 
most  capable  of  interpreting  sounds  in  every  degree  of 
time:  the  light  limbs  executing  the  rapid,  the  heavy 


Eurhythmies  and  Moving  Plastic   275 

limbs  the  slow,  passages.  It  may  achieve  slow  effects 
— unusual  in  music — by  a  flexible  succession  of  ges- 
tures, attitudes,  and  displacements;  and,  moreover,  may, 
by  means  of  dissociated  movements  of  separate  limbs, 
interpret  no  matter  what  polyrhythm. 

Unity  in  the  division  of  time  is  achieved  in  bodily 
movement  in  the  same  way  as  in  music.  As  regards 
division  of  space,  we  can  only  formulate  a  general 
principle — the  application  of  which  must  be  left  to  the 
initiative  and  whim  of  the  teacher. 

As  we  have  seen,  moving  plastic  is  based  on  move- 
ment, and  not  on  attitude.  Its  alphabet  will  therefore 
be  composed  of  signs  representing  not  the  attitudes, 
but  the  passages  from  one  attitude  to  another.  The 
body  in  an  upright  stationary  position  may  be  regarded 
as  the  axis — so  far  as  movements  of  the  torso  and  head 
are  concerned — of  an  imaginary  sphere,  which  we  divide 
by  nine  radii.  Each  of  the  radii  (that  is,  the  distance 
between  the  centre,  and  no  matter  what  point  on  the 
circumference)  may  be  subdivided  into  x  notches.  The 
sphere  itself  may  be  divided  into  eight  horizontal  seg- 
ments (planes). 

Each  of  these  divisions  is  regarded  as  a  resting-place, 
marking  the  boundaries  of  movements ;  but,  in  practice, 
these  marks  serve  to  represent  the  distance  between 
the  starting-point  and  no  matter  which  of  the  resting- 
places.  We  also  have  occasion  to  utilise  these  nine 
guiding-points  as  lines  of  movement:  thus,  the  forearm 
may  be  made  to  follow  line  8,  while  the  arm  follows 
line  3,  etc.,  and  the  torso,  head,  and  arms  can  be  man- 
oeuvred differently  in  each  of  the  eight  horizontal 
planes.  When  we  add  that  we  have  devised  eight  ways 


276    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

of  utilising  the  joints  of  the  arms,  it  will  be  appreciated 
that  the  number  of  combinations  is  incalculable. 

The  space  to  be  covered  by  the  legs  may  also  be 
divided  into  eight  planes,  and  the  space  within  range 
of  the  thigh  into  nine  radii. 

For  the  body  in  motion,  we  employ  five  steps  of 
different  lengths,  and  thus  create  a  great  number  of 
combinations  of  movements  and  new  attitudes:  each 
step  forwards,  backwards,  or  sideways,  modifying  the 
position  of  the  body  in  relation  to  an  arm  fixed  in  a 
point  of  space.  To  make  ourselves  quite  clear,  imagine 
the  arm  outstretched  in  a  horizontal  line,  the  forefinger 
pressed  against  the  wall.  To  make  a  step  backwards 
involves  a  forward  attitude  for  the  arm;  to  kneel  down 
makes  an  oblique  line,  etc.  The  point  fixed  in  space 
is  not  necessarily  concrete,  and  in  all  our  exercises  in 
manoeuvres  in  space,  the  body  evolves  about  an  invisible 
and  imagined  point. 

DIVISION  OF  SPACE  IN  RELATION  TO 
DIVISION  OF  TIME 

A  gesture  executed  in  x  time  necessitates  a  given 
muscular  force.  This  muscular  force  is  the  product  of 
the  relations  between  the  action  of  the  synergic  and 
the  inhibitory  muscles;  thus,  if  a  gesture  executed  in  a 
certain  space  of  time  is  to  cover  the  same  distance  in 
a  shorter  space  of  time,  the  activity  of  the  inhibitory 
muscles  is  reduced,  while  that  of  the  synergic  muscles 
increases,  and  vice  versa  (whether  the  movement  be 
made  vigorously  or  gently,  the  proportions  remain  the 
same).  Thus,  once  one  has  decided  to  assume  a  definite 


Eurhythmies  and  Moving  Plastic  277 

attitude  without  stiffness,  it  becomes  necessary  to  ob- 
tain from  the  muscles  in  question  a  sort  of  compromise 
between  these  two  conflicting  activities,  and  to  exercise 
control  over  their  relations,  in  such  a  way  as  to  express 
the  gradations  of  time  and  weight  by  appropriate 
movements. 

Most  novices  are  apt  to  make  their  gestures  or  steps 
either  too  late  or  too  soon.  The  former — which  is  the 
most  frequent  case — arises  from  a  surplus  of  activity 
in  the  inhibitory  muscles ;  the  latter  from  an  inadequacy 
of  that  activity. 

DIVISION  OF  TIME  AND  SPACE  IN  RELATION  TO  THE 
SITUATION  OF  THE  INDIVIDUAL  IN  SPACE 

(1)  If   we   now    consider   not   one   moving   body, 
but  several  bodies  in  motion  at  the  same  time,  we  are 
obliged  to  take  note  of  the  relations  of  these  bodies 
between  themselves.     The   student   must   adapt  his 
movements  to  those  of  his  comrades,  mindful  ever  of 
the  general  effect.    Movements  are  thus  both  perfected 
and  simplified.    The  nuances  of  energy  of  each  body  in 
isolation  have  no  influence  on  the  general  nuances 
effected  by  the  group  as  a  whole.    By  this  means,  a 
group  of  men  can  produce  an  impression  of  crescendo 
by  an  extension  (the  men  spreading  themselves  out) 
or  by  a  shrinkage  (the  men  pressing  together  analo- 
gously to  a  muscle  contracting).    And  vice  versa. 

(2)  To  the  same  category  belongs  the  study  of  the 
estimating  of  space  to  be  covered:  the  space  in  which 
the  body  operates  serves  as  a  frame,  to  the  dimensions 
of  which  the  movements  have  to  adapt  themselves. 


278    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

Exercises  in  estimating  space  will  depend  on  the  tempo, 
and  on  the  rhythmic  genre  of  the  movements. 

(3)  It  is  of  equal  importance  to  set  students  exercises 
in  composition  (developments  and  successions  of  geo- 
metrical figures),  to  accustom  their  minds  to  conceive 
ensemble  effects  in  a  given  space,  and  teach  them  to 
apply  them  for  decorative  purposes. 

PROGRESSIVE  SUCCESSION  OF  GESTURES 

The  reciprocal  relations  between  the  elements  consti- 
tuting moving  plastic,  form  the  phrasing  of  movement. 

In  music,  phrasing  is  a  collocation  of  elements  de- 
pendent on  one  another,  constituting  a  more  or  less 
complete  entity.  In  moving  plastic,  we  may  say  that 
"every  set  of  gestures  in  logical  succession  constitutes 
a  phrase."  In  other  words:  if  one  gesture  results  from 
another,  the  two  form  a  phrase. 

Take,  for  example,  the  movements  effected  by  a 
wood-chopper.  In  order  that  his  two  gestures — the 
raising  and  dropping  of  the  arms — should  form  a  single 
phrase,  the  first  must  be  the  preparation  for  the  second, 
the  second  the  inevitable  result  of  the  first.  Any  in- 
terruption, however  slight  and  imperceptible,  will  suf- 
fice to  produce  two  phrases — except,  of  course,  where 
the  interruption  does  not  imply  a  real  break,  but  takes 
place  while  the  body  is,  so  to  speak,  in  suspension. 
(We  shall  return  to  this  case  later.)  The  moment 
the  movement  is  interrupted,  a  fresh  effort  of  the  will 
is  required  for  its  resumption,  which  effort  of  will, 
being  primarily  independent  of  the  preceding  move- 
ments, may  be  exercised  at  any  moment,  regardless 


Eurhythmies  and  Moving  Plastic  279 

of  the  latter.  It  is  not,  therefore,  the  result  of  that 
movement. 

We  term  anacrusic  any  action  that  discloses  its  prepa- 
ration in  such  a  way  as  to  give  this  visible  prepara- 
tion the  appearance  of  the  act  itself.  The  inevitable 
result  of  this  preparation  is  subservient  to  the  laws  of 
gravity.  As  examples,  we  may  mention  the  movements 
of  the  wood-chopper  or  blacksmith,  and  the  actions  of 
pulling  and  pushing,  etc. 

We  term  crusic  any  action  the  preparation  of  which 
is  concealed  in  such  a  way  that  the  result  of  this  prepa- 
ration appears  as  the  real  beginning  of  the  action.  The 
spontaneous  movement  that  constitutes  the  action 
itself  inevitably  produces  an  involuntarily  and  less 
emphatic  movement — the  reaction;  for  example,  the 
actions  of  rowing,  reaping,  planing,  turning  a  lathe, 
drawing  a  bow,  throwing  a  stone,  etc.  It  goes  without 
saying  that  the  majority  of  actions  may  be  at  once 
crusic  and  anacrusic:  that  is  to  say,  that  the  reaction 
from  one  movement  may  be  the  preparation  for  its 
successor. 

SUGGESTION  OF  GESTURES  FROM  THE  ESTHETIC 
POINT  OF  VIEW 

The  Plastic  Value  of  the  Gesture. — There  is  another 
element  that  should  be  mentioned  with  crusic  and  ana- 
crusic actions,  and  that  is  the  "starting-point"  of  the 
corporal  phrase. 

Voluntary  actions  should  be  localised— that  is  to  say, 
the  willing  of  a  movement  to  be  effected  should  be 
concentrated  first  in  one  or  other  different  parts  of  the 


280    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

body  or  limb  to  be  moved,  so  as  first  to  distribute  the 
effort  and  eliminate  every  useless  muscular  action  from 
the  movement,  and  then  to  adjust  the  effort. 

In  the  movements  of  manual  labour,  this  localisation 
is  usually  unconscious.  Thus,  with  the  wood-chopper 
raising  his  axe:  if  it  is  heavy,  the  starting-point  of  the 
movement  will  be  in  the  back,  which,  in  making  the 
first  effort,  enables  the  arms  to  lift  the  axe  more  easily 
than  if  the  effort  had  been  confined  to  the  hands;  if 
the  axe  be  light,  the  hand  holding  the  implement  makes 
the  first  effort  and  inevitably  brings  the  rest  of  the  arm 
into  play.  It  is  this  localisation  that  gives  the  move- 
ment its  plastic  value.  This  principle  is  at  the  root  of 
all  aesthetic  concatenation  of  movements.  But  once  a 
movement  is  realised  as  part  of  a  succession,  the  local- 
isation is  not  essential  and  its  adoption  becomes  more 
complex.  For  instance,  take  again  the  gesture  of  raising 
the  arm:  the  gesture  may  be  effected  so  as  to  give  the 
impression  that  the  act  of  volition  determining  it  has 
its  starting-point  either  in  the  breathing,  the  arm,  or 
the  forearm,  or  the  hand,  and  that  the  parts  of  the 
body  where  the  spontaneity  of  the  first  movement  is 
not  evident  have  been  brought  into  play  by  the  localised 
preparatory  action. 

If  the  movement  to  be  effected  is  of  no  emotional  or 
intellectual  significance,  generally  speaking,  it  links  in 
action  heavy  with  light  limbs. 

The  trunk  being  the  heaviest  limb  of  the  body,  and 
that  first  influenced  by  emotion,  owing  to  the  action  of 
the  diaphragm,  it  follows  that  the  most  important  and 
common  instigator  of  all  movements  is  the  breathing. 

Breathing  is  at  the  basis  of  every  manifestation  of 


Eurhythmies  and  Moving  Plastic  281 

life,  and  plays  as  well  aesthetically  as  physiologically,  a 
r61e  of  the  very  highest  importance  in  moving  plastic. 
(Vide,  in  my  book  on  Eurhythmies,1  the  chapter  de- 
voted to  the  different  methods  of  breathing;  see  also 
the  little  volume  on  my  method,  entitled  Breathing  and 
Muscular  Innervation,2  with  anatomical  diagrams). 
It  may  be  said  in  general  that,  even  in  cases  where 
breathing  does  not  engender  the  movement,  the 
phrase  will  begin  with  an  expiration  and  end  with  an 
inspiration. 

Movements  may,  however,  have  their  starting-points 
in  other  parts  of  the  body.  The  torso,  arms,  legs, 
hips,  hands,  shoulders,  may  alike  give  the  impulse  to  the 
movement.  And  once  the  attitude  is  assumed  with  its 
starting-point  in  one  or  other  of  the  limbs,  breathing 
will  assume  the  function  of  modifying  the  intensity  of 
the  arrested  gesture. 

PLASTIC  AND  MUSICAL  VALUE  OF  GESTURE 

Every  time  our  conscious  will  selects  a  starting-point 
for  a  movement,  a  new  phrase  is  begun.  We  have 
already  pointed  out  that  the  characteristic  of  a  phrase 
is  its  collocation  of  elements  dependent  on  one  an- 
other and  culminating  in  a  rest.  But  these  elements 
may  be  linked  in  succession  in  a  manner  more  or  less 
constant.  Precisely  as  a  literary  phrase  may  be  com- 
posed of  different  sentences,  separated  by  commas  or 

1  Eurhythmies.  Parti.  "Rhythmic  Movement."  '  London:  Novello 
&  Co.,  160  Wardour  St.,  W. 

3  La  Respiration  et  I'innervation  Musculaire.  Lausanne:  Jobin  et  Cie. 
London:  Novello  &  Co. 


282    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

other  punctuation  marks,  so  plastic  phrases  may  also 
comprise  sentences  independent  of  each  other,  sepa- 
rated by  pauses.  These  pauses  cannot  be  confused 
with  the  ends  of  phrases,  since  the  body  remains  in  a 
state  of  suspended  animation:  it  is  made  apparent 
that  its  movement  is  to  be  continued,  but  the  moment 
of  continuation  is  not  definitely  indicated. 

These  points  of  suspension — plastic  punctuation 
marks — correspond  to  accentuations  in  music,  and 
stress  the  culminating  points  of  musical  phrasing. 
These  culminating  points — "rhythmic"  points,  as 
Mathis  Lussy  calls  them1 — are  the  climaxes  of  crescendo 
and  diminuendo,  the  ascending  or  descending  lines  of 
which  are  more  or  less  sudden  or  slow,  complex  or  sim- 
plified. They  depend,  not  only  on  dynamics,  but  also 
on  the  harmonic  succession  of  sounds.  Corporal  phras- 
ing at  these  moments  becomes  absolutely  of  the  same 
nature  as  musical  phrasing,  and,  while  achieving  ex- 
pression by  its  own  technical  processes,  models  itself 
on,  and  identifies  itself  with,  the  latter.  We  may  find, 
especially  in  classical  composers,  a  host  of  examples 
of  musical  passages  lending  themselves  to  corporal 
phrasing. 

All  the  above  indications  relate  to  the  corporal  move- 
ments of  a  single  individual.  There  remains  to  analyse 
the  opposition  of  attitudes  and  gestures  of  two  or  more 
bodies  in  movement,  two  or  more  groups  of  individuals, 
a  soloist  and  a  group,  etc.  A  host  of  combinations 
suggest  themselves;  and  these,  in  their  reunions  and 

lLe  Rhythme  musical,  Heugel,  £diteur,  au  M6n£strel,  2  bis,  rue 
Vivienne,  Paris. 


Eurhythmies  and  Moving  Plastic  283 

sequences,  form  what  one  may  call  the  "orchestra- 
tion" of  human  movement.  The  dynamic  principles 
are  quite  different  from  those  of  a  single  muscular 
apparatus,  and  the  guiding  in  space  of  an  ensemble  of 
plastic  artists  modifies  the  direction  of  the  gestures  of 
each  isolated  artist.  A  new  polyrhythm  is  produced, 
compound  of  movements  and  lines,  and  the  expression 
of  which,  even  more  so  than  the  polyrhythm  of  a  single 
body  in  motion,  brings  home  to  us  the  fact  that  moving 
plastic  and  music  are  two  arts  of  the  same  nature, 
capable  of  heightening  each  other's  effect,  even  if  not 
created  for  that  purpose.  In  endeavouring  to  express 
with  the  body  the  emotion  evoked  by  music,  we  feel 
this  emotion  penetrate  our  organism,  and  become  more 
personal  and  vital  as  it  sets  in  vibration  the  deepest 
fibres  of  our  being.  The  student,  by  gradually  training 
his  body  in  the  dynamic  and  rhythmic  laws  of  music,  be- 
comes more  musical  generally,  and  eventually  capable 
of  interpreting  sincerely  and  spontaneously  the  inten- 
tions of  the  great  composers,  on  no  matter  what  instru- 
ment he  may  choose.  The  marching,  running,  and 
dancing  to  fugues  of  Bach  will  not  constitute  a  lese- 
majeste  against  that  profound  genius  who  composed  ex- 
pressly for  the  harpsichord ;  this  corporal  interpretation 
does  not  profess  to  render  the  complete  thought  of  the 
master  and  to  substitute  an  arbitrary  mode  of  inter- 
pretation for  the  means  of  expression  selected  by  him: 
it  is  merely  a  matter  of  the  substitution,  for  the  purely 
intellectual  analysis  of  the  work,  of  the  experience  of 
sensations  of  the  whole  organism.  To  bring  out  the 
different  parts,  dissociate  the  polyrhythms,  realise  the 
stretti,  and  oppose  the  nuances  of  dynamic  contrasts 


284    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

will  become  for  the  student  a  perfectly  natural  process. 
All  the  structural  details  of  the  phrasing  and  shading 
will  be  made  clear,  because  felt  by  the  body — and  so 
become  organic.  In  short,  the  student  will  have  the 
music  within  him,  and  his  instrumental  interpretation 
will  become  more  convincing,  spontaneous,  vivid,  and 
individual. 

Again,  the  rhythmic  and  dynamic  faculties  of  the 
body  will  expand  as  they  take  their  starting-point  in 
music — the  only  possible  field  of  development.  In 
fact,  music  is  the  only  art,  directly  founded  on  dynamics 
and  rhythm,  which  is  capable  of  giving  style  to  corporal 
movements,  while  permeating  them  with  the  emotion 
which  has  inspired  it  and  which  it  in  turn  inspires. 
Once  the  body  has  become  musicalised  and  saturated 
in  rhythms  and  their  nuances,  moving  plastic  will 
gradually  evolve  into  a  higher  and  self -sufficient  art. 

It  should  also  furnish  the  public  with  the  opportunity 
of  expressing  its  aesthetic  will  and  its  instinctive  love 
of  beauty  in  evolutions  and  combinations  of  gestures, 
steps,  and  attitudes,  forming  veritable  festivals — 
musical  and  rhythmic.  How  fine  is  the  sight  of  a 
host  of  men  or  children  executing  the  same  gymnastic 
movement  in  time!  But  how  much  finer  the  effect 
of  a  crowd,  divided  into  distinct  groups,  of  which  each 
takes  an  independent  part  in  the  polyrhythm  of  the 
whole!  Art  thrives  on  contrasts,  and  it  is  these  con- 
trasts that  form  what  we  call  the  values  of  art.  In  a 
plastic  display,  the  aesthetic  emotion  is  produced  by  the 
opposition  of  lines  and  the  contrasts  of  time;  and  it  is 
a  powerful  and  really  human  emotion,  because  directly 


Eurhythmies  and  Moving  Plastic  285 

inspired  by  the  mechanism  of  our  individual  life,  of 
which  we  may  retrace  the  image  in  the  rhythmic  evo- 
lutions of  a  whole  populace. 

Rhythm,  as  we  have  said,  is  the  basis  of  all  art ;  it  is 
also  the  basis  of  human  society.  Corporal  and  spiritual 
"economics"  are  a  matter  of  co-operation.  And  once 
society  is  properly  trained,  from  school  upwards,  it 
will  itself  feel  the  need  for  expressing  its  joys  and  sor- 
rows in  manifestations  of  collective  art,  like  those  of 
the  Greeks  of  the  best  period.  We  shall  then  be  offered 
well-organised  festivals,  which  will  express  the  popular 
aesthetic  will,  and  where  divers  groups  will  perform  in 
the  manner  of  individuals  in  a  form  at  once  metrical 
and  individual — that  is  to  say,  rhythmical,  for  rhythm 
is  "individuality  given  style."  There  are  such  won- 
ders to  be  created  in  the  domain  of  collective  rhythmic 
movement.  So  few  people  realise  that  this  domain  is 
almost  unexplored,  and  that  a  whole  people  may  be 
made  to  execute  movements  in  order  and  symmetry 
without  presenting  the  aspect  of  a  battalion  of  soldiers; 
that  it  may  counterpoint  the  musical  design  in  a  hund- 
red different  ways  by  gestures,  steps,  and  attitudes, 
while  conveying  an  impression  of  consistent  unity  and 
order.  A  generation  of  children  trained  in  rhythm 
would  prepare  for  itself  and  for  us  undreamt  of  aesthetic 
joys.1  There  is  no  greater  happiness  than  in  moving 

1 1  may  be  pardoned  for  mentioning,  as  a  matter  of  record,  my 
Festival  vaudois  of  1903,  in  which,  at  Lausanne,  under  the  direction  of 
Gamier,  a  chorus  of  1800  persons  took  part,  according  to  my  principles 
(long  before  the  productions  of  Reinhardt);  also  the  Festspiele  of  my 
school  at  Hellerau  where,  for  the  first  time,  in  1911,  I  achieved,  in 
Orpheus,  and  other  works,  a  polyrhythm  of  crowds  on  staircases  and 
inclines.  Later,  the  performances  of  the  F&e  de  Juin  in  1914,  at 


286    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

rhythmically  and  giving  body  and  soul  to  the  music 
that  guides  and  inspires  us;  and  it  is  virtually  created 
by  the  possibility  of  conveying  to  others  what  our  own 
education  has  given  us.  What  can  be  more  gratifying 
than  to  interpret  freely,  and  in  an  individual  manner, 
the  feelings  that  actuate  us,  and  which  form  the  whole 
essence  of  our  personality — of  externalising,  without 
constraint,  our  sorrows  and  joys,  our  aspirations  and 
desires — of  allying  eurhythmically  our  means  of  expres- 
sion with  those  of  others — to  group,  magnify,  and  give 
style  to  the  emotions  inspired  by  music  and  poetry? 
And  this  gratification  is  not  of  a  passing,  artificial,  or 
abnormal  order:  it  is  an  integral  factor  in  the  condi- 
tions of  existence  and  the  progress  of  the  individual. 
It  cannot  but  contribute  to  the  raising  of  the  instincts 
of  the  race,  and  the  permeation  of  the  altruistic  quali- 
ties necessary  for  the  establishment  of  a  healthy  social 
order. 

Geneva,  where,  apart  from  the  dramatic  scenes  produced  by  Gamier, 
the  lyric  parts  of  my  work  (text  by  Albert  Malche  and  Daniel  Baud- 
Bovy)  were  interpreted  by  200  rhythmic  students,  entrusted  with  the 
plastic  expression  of  the  orchestral  and  choral  symphony  on  a  flat 
surface,  tiers,  and  monumental  staircases. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
MUSIC  AND  THE  DANCER  (1918) 

The  Philistine  and  the  dance — Ignorance  of  the  public — 
The  muscular  sense — Dancing  and  imitation  of  clear-cut  plas- 
tic attitudes — Qualities  of  emotion  and  style — Nuances  of 
for<r.e  and  flexibility,  and  their  relations  with  those  of  time — 
Opposition  of  gesture — Rests — The  construction  of  a  dance — 
Space  and  direction — Conventional  techniques — Dancing  and 
musical  thought — Intellectual  music  and  "living"  music — 
Choreographic  literature — Creation  of  a  new  musico-plastic 
style — The  composers  of  to-morrow. 


287 


Group  Exercises 


CHAPTER    XIII  To  my  friend, 

PERCY INGHAM 

MUSIC  AND  THE  DANCER  (iQlS) 

CHOREOGRAPHIC  performances  have  been  for  some  years 
past  on  the  increase  in  every  country,  and  the  public 
appears  to  be  "taking"  more  and  more  to  them.  We 
regard  this  as  a  healthy  sign  of  the  times. 

In  the  old  days,  the  provincial  Philistine  would  have 
believed  himself  lost  if  his  presence  at  a  local  perform- 
ance of  dancing  had  been  discovered.  Possibly  he  is 
beginning  to  wonder  to-day  if  dancing  may  not  be — or 
be  capable  of  being — as  pure  and  expressive  as  any 
other  art?  Doubtless  snobbishness  plays  its  part  in 
this  new  interest;  but  the  cult  of  sport  is  also  partly 
responsible.  A  training  in  gymnastics  for  hygienic 
purposes  may  have  awakened  his  interest  in  aesthetic 
gymnastics.  Unfortunately,  this  latter  requires  more 
encouragement  than  is  accorded  it  in  contemporary 
sport  and  society  circles  to  enable  it  to  contribute  to 
the  progress  of  plastic  art. 

It  has  been  said  that  in  matters  of  choreography 
light  comes  from  the  North.  We,  for  our  part,  have 
always  found  the  ballet  audiences  at  Moscow  and 
Petrograd  content  with  a  mere  ocular  amusement,  and 
it  was  certainly  not  their  influence  that  inspired  certain 
talented  Russian  dancers  to  seek  new  outlets  for  their 
art.  In  fact,  they  constitute  the  most  frivolous,  incon- 
20  289 


290    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

sistent,  and  reactionary  of  any  public,  and  the  very 
last  to  regard  the  dance  as  other  than  a  superficial  en- 
tertainment. In  other  countries — in  Sweden,  France, 
Switzerland,  Germany,  and  England — the  public  has 
far  better  judgment :  discerns  in  dancing,  a  higher  me- 
dium of  expression,  and  is  only  perplexed  at  not  being 
able  to  explain  the  satisfaction  it  derives  from  its  va- 
rious forms.  One  has  only  to  mingle  with  the  audi- 
ence in  the  intervals,  or  at  the  close,  of  a  performance 
to  appreciate  their  embarrassment  at  not  knowing 
whether  they  have  enjoyed  or  disliked  the  dancing, 
whether  or  not  to  yield  to  their  first  impression.  The 
reviews  in  the  Press  the  following  morning  set  them  at 
ease,  and  form  the  basis  of  their  ultimate  judgment. 
They  have  no  suspicion  that  the  critics — whatever  their 
erudition  and  artistic  taste  in  other  branches — know  as 
little  as  themselves  in  matters  of  dancing.  Journalists, 
completely  out  of  touch  with  the  art  of  movement, 
regard  themselves  as  authorised  in  matters  choreo- 
graphic! As  to  those  who  specialise  in  drama  and  the 
ballet,  they  are  so  perverted  by  their  familiarity  with 
the  old  routine  that  they  prove  even  less  competent 
than  the  others  to  distinguish  the  sincere  endeavours  of 
genuine  artists  to  restore  natural  dancing,  from  the  pre- 
tensions of  the  swarm  of  opportunists  on  the  make. x 

1  It  is  significant  that  musical  critics,  who  have  received  no  ocular 
training  whatever,  consider  themselves  fully  qualified  to  judge  musico- 
plastic  performances  designed  to  appeal  simultaneously  to  eye  and  ear; 
while  on  the  other  hand,  non-musical  plastic  experts  do  not  hesitate 
to  lay  down  the  law  on  artistic  manifestations,  in  which  music  plays  a 
preponderant  r&le.  It  is  obvious  that  the  criticism  of  performances 
involving  a  fusion  of  the  arts  of  music  and  bodily  movement  should  be 
entrusted  only  to  individuals  qualified  to  appreciate  and  analyse  each  of 
the  separate  constituents  of  this  artistic  combination. 


Music  and  the  Dancer  291 

It  is  hardly  possible  to  appreciate  any  art  without  a 
certain  understanding  of  the  phases  of  its  evolution 
and  the  laws  of  its  technique.  How  is  one  to  produce 
any  sort  of  constructive  criticism  on  the  decadent 
dancing  in  vogue  to-day,  or  to  appreciate  new  reforms, 
unless  one  feels  the  need  for  these  reforms,  and  attempts 
to  ascertain  and  analyse  the  source  of  that  feeling — 
and,  before  all  else,  to  establish  the  nature  and  purpose 
of  the  art  that  for  the  last  fifteen  years  has  been  steadily 
deteriorating? 

In  analysing  painting  and  music,  our  eyes  and  ears — 
however  badly  trained — provide  us  with  the  points  of 
comparison  necessary  for  any  serious  attempt  at  an 
objective  appreciation.  But  fully  to  appreciate  the 
style  of  human  movement,  we  require  a  special — the 
muscular — sense,  complemented  by  what  scientists  have 
called  the  kinaesthetic  or  stereognostic  sense  (or  simply 
sense  of  space),  and  what  Professor  L.  Bard,  of  Geneva, 
has  recently  and  aptly  described  as  sense  "of  gyration." 
Neither  conventional  gymnastics,  sport,  nor  lessons  in 
deportment  and  grace  suffice  for  this  purpose,  the 
movements  they  produce  having  no  direct  relation  with 
the  multiple  nuances  of  agogics  (variations  in  time)  and 
of  dynamics.  On  the  other  hand,  our  instinctive  ap- 
preciation of  human  attitudes,  lines,  and  gestures  is 
warped  by  a  conventional  education  restrictive  of  all 
spontaneous  corporal  expression,  to  say  nothing  of  a 
long  addiction  to  stock  theatrical  fare. 

Numerous  dancer-artists  have  trained  themselves  to 
assume  attitudes  borrowed  from  Greek  statuary,  and 
have  sought  to  revitalise  them,  in  reconstructing  plastic 
masterpieces  challenging  comparison  with  the  original. 


292     Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

But  we  must  remember  that  the  isolated  figures  of 
classical  sculptors  were  each  and  all  directly  inspired 
by  the  highly  complex  art  of  Orchesis;  an  art  which, 
according  to  Lucian  and  Plato,  consisted  in  "expressing 
every  emotion  by  means  of  gesture."  The  fixing  and 
elaborating  of  the  supreme  climaxes  of  dancing  and  ges- 
ticulation is  fatal  to  the  continuity  of  movement,  and 
destroys  the  logical  succession  of  attitudes.  *  It  is  there- 
fore not  enough  for  the  modern  dancer  to  reproduce  cer- 
tain decorative  classical  attitudes — which,  in  the  Greek 
orchesis,  would  merely  indicate  pause — in  order  to  re- 
suscitate and  rhythmicise  the  life  that  animated  classi- 
cal dancing.  Nor  will  a  public,  that  has  been  soundly 
educated  in  movement,  be  satisfied  with  the  choreo- 
graphic performances  of  the  present  day  which  consist 
of  a  series  of  charming  plastic  themes  and  graceful 
attitudes  inconsistently  and  artificially  linked  in  suc- 
cession. It  will  demand,  apart  from  the  quintessential 
emotion, 2  the  qualities  of  style,  form,  and  development 
of  contrasts  and  gradations  required  for  manifestations 
of  any  complete  and  vital  art. 

Every  really  musical  spectator  should  be  able  to 
judge  whether  a  virtuoso  has  adequately  analysed  the 
work  he  is  professing  to  interpret  to  convey  its  "mes- 
sage," and  general  emotion — or  whether  he  has  merely 
studied  the  different  passages,  one  after  the  other, 
without  attempting  to  animate  the  whole  with  a  con- 
sistent impulse  of  organic  life. 

1  See  p.  267,  et  seq. 

3  A  curious  phenomenon:  many  artists,  who  demand  qualities  of 
refined  emotion  and  feeling  from  music  and  painting,  express  themselves 
as  satisfied  with  interpretations  of  dancing  from  which  emotion — vol- 
untarily or  involuntarily — has  been  entirely  excluded. 


Music  and  the  Dancer  293 

The  spectator  of  a  plastic  interpretation  should  also 
demand  from  the  dancer  general  qualities  of  form  and 
of  gradation  in  development,  and  not  be  content  with 
the  successions  of  isolated  effects,  and  "moments," 
without  cohesion,  to  which  too  often  dancers  of  the  new 
school  confine  themselves;  and  choreographic  compo- 
sition should  be  as  carefully  formed  as  musical  or  pic- 
torial composition.  Its  life  and  emotion  should  be 
given  style,  and  this  style  will  depend  as  much  on  the 
position,  value,  and  proportion,  as  on  the  intensity  of 
its  expressive  elements.  In  a  conception  of  moving 
plastic,  the  executant  requires  not  only  all  the  resources 
of  corporal  technique,  but  in  addition  a  training  in 
their  careful  and  conscious  application,  in  the  subordi- 
nation of  particular  to  general  effects,  the  combination 
and  contrasting  of  the  latter,  and  the  modification  or 
even  elimination  of  particular  elements,  in  accordance 
with  absolute  principles,  the  observance  of  which 
(whether  spontaneous  or  deliberate)  produces  style. 

The  significance  of  an  arm  gesture  depends  on  the 
contrasting  or  parallel  attitudes  of  the  head,  the  other 
arm,  legs,  and  torso,  the  divers  motions  of  breathing, 
variations  in  balance  produced  by  the  displacement  of 
the  weight  of  the  body — and  the  time  occupied  in  their 
deployment.  To  an  untrained  spectator,  none  of  these 
nuances  will  be  noticeable.  *  His  only  concern  is  that 
the  arm  should  be  rounded  and  graceful.  Just  as  an 
auditor  whose  hearing  faculties  are  undeveloped  must 
fail  to  appreciate  melodic  and  harmonic  successions,  and 
the  divergences  of  sound  relations,  so  the  spectator  who 
lacks  an  adequate  visual  training,  can  follow  only  the 

'See  Chapter  XII,  pp.  279-281. 


294    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

general  outline  of  a  gesture,  and  is  incapable  of  distin- 
guishing its  relations  in  space,  and  sensing  the  greater 
or  lesser  muscular  intensity.  I  recall,  after  a  display 
by  Isadora  Duncan  at  the  Chatelet  Theatre,  hearing 
people,  of  artistic  repute,  confine  their  remarks  to  the 
physical  proportions,  and,  in  particular,  the  bare  feet 
of  the  dancer — which  is  equivalent  to  an  audience  at  a 
pianoforte  recital  confining  its  attention  to  the  qualities 
of  the  instrument,  and  ignoring  those  of  the  interpreter. 

Confronted  with  the  delicate  shading  of  gesture  ef- 
fected by  dancers  like  Sakkaroff,  the  untrained  spec- 
tator will  exclaim:  "It's  the  same  thing  over  and  over 
again,"  without  perceiving  that  in  fact  these  artists 
are  performing  before  him  the  whole  scale  of  variations 
of  a  single  gesture.  And  he  will  applaud,  in  other 
dancers,  a  gesticulation  over-elaborated  and  lacking  in 
rests,  which  is  the  common  failing  of  many  quite  sensi- 
tive and  enthusiastic  beginners.  .  .  .  And  this  raises 
the  question  of  the  importance  in  plastic  interpretations 
of  the  elimination  of  useless  movements,  the  installation 
of  rests,  the  distribution  of  expressive  effects  over  local- 
ised parts  of  the  organism,  counterpoint,  phrasing,  poly- 
rhythm  of  associated  and  harmonisation  of  synergic 
movements.  .  .  . 

Another  factor  in  plastic  unity  and  order  to  which 
too  little  attention  is  devoted  is  the  understanding  of 
the  relations  between  movements  and  displacements  of 
the  body  and  the  space  in  which  they  are  executed. 
A  certain  popular  dancer,  in  particular,  whom  we  re- 
member as  giving  us  the  impression  of  a  bird  fluttering 
frantically  about  its  narrow  cage,  in  search  of  an  outlet, 
was  doubtless  unaware  of  the  fact  that  the  dance  of 


Music  and  the  Dancer  295 

a  soloist  requires  to  be  composed  with  the  same  care 
for  lines  and  direction  as  the  evolutions  of  a  company, 
whether  of  soldiers  or  dancers.  According  to  the  "con- 
struction" of  a  dance,  the  eye  of  the  spectator  records 
an  impression  of  order  or  disorder,  harmony  or  decora- 
tive anarchy.  The  evolutions  cannot  be  consigned  to 
the  impulse  or  inspiration  of  the  moment,  any  more 
than,  in  musical  counterpoint,  trie  lines  of  polyrhythm 
may,  without  danger,  be  submitted  to  a  course  of  modu- 
lations and  rhythms  traced  at  haphazard.  It  is  im- 
portant, in  music,  that  the  repetition  of  a  theme — in  a 
rondo,  for  example — should  be  confined  to  a  particular 
key;  the  particular  quality  of  the  refrain  lies  in  the 
manner  in  which  the  composer  has  prepared  its  reap- 
pearance in  the  initial  key.  Similarly,  in  the  plastic 
interpretation  of  a  rondo,  it  is  essential  that  the  attitude 
and  movements  interpreting  the  musical  theme  into 
corporal  language  should  be  concentrated,  at  the  mo- 
ment of  the  repetition,  in  a  fixed  portion  of  space.  The 
space  of  which  a  dancer  avails  himself  should  be  a 
matter  of  careful  consideration,  and  his  position  delib- 
erately and  not  arbitrarily  related  to  the  construction 
and  proportions  of  the  work  to  be  interpreted.  Every 
concatenation  of  movements  and  displacements  of  bal- 
ance or  evolutions  results  inevitably  in  a  "resolution" 
(to  use  the  musical  term),  a  climax,  in  the  centre  or  in 
one  of  the  corners  of  the  space,  whether  on  a  flat  surface, 
or  on  an  incline  or  graduated  plane.  An  attitude  trans- 
ferred from  one  point  of  space  to  another  must  either 
gain  or  lose  in  expressive  force.  According  to  its  direc- 
tion, and  the  distance  from  its  "base,"  it  may  entirely 
change  its  significance.  The  prearranged  disposition  of 


296    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

lines  constitutes  a  factor  in  the  retrospective  apprecia- 
tion of  a  dance  (by  visual  memory),  of  which  few 
dancers  appear  to  suspect  the  importance. 

But  so  far  we  have  confined  ourselves  to  the  essen- 
tially plastic  side  of  the  problem.  Indeed,  it  is  this 
aspect  which  makes  the  most  direct  appeal  to  both 
public  and  critics,  and  apparently  the  only  appeal  to 
dancers.  The  musical  atrocities  perpetrated  by  certain 
illustrious  nonentities  in  the  art  should,  to  our  mind, 
arouse  the  indignation  of  all  lovers  of  music.  There 
are  times  when  protest  becomes  a  matter  of  duty. 
And  yet  the  majority  of  so-called  connoisseurs  object 
at  most  to  the  external  side  of  the  interpretations.  We 
submit  that  a  dancer  has  no  right  to  be  ignorant  of 
and  to  despise  the  music  which  he  chooses  as  a  pretext 
for  his  evolutions.  There  is  an  intimate  connection 
between  sound  and  gesture,  and  the  dance  that  is 
based  on  music  should  draw  its  inspiration  at  least  as 
much,  and  even  more,  from  its  subjective  emotions  as 
from  its  external  rhythmic  forms. 

A  gulf  separates  the  movements  of  the  Greek  orchesis 
from  those  of  our  modern  ballet.  And  yet  it  is  indis- 
putable that  the  majority  of  the  latter  were  originally 
founded  on  the  purest  classical  traditions:  only  the 
spirit  that  animated  the  dances  of  the  ancients  is  ex- 
tinct ;  life  has  left  them.  There  remain  only  a  few  fun- 
damental attitudes  and  positions,  but  how  restrained 
and  systematised !  The  divers  motions  of  the  arms, 
for  example — the  innumerable  symmetrical  and  asym- 
metrical positions  that  provided  all  the  resources  of 
gesticulation — have  been  replaced  by  a  solitary  circular 
movement,  devoid  of  all  expressive  or  mimetic  value, 


Music  and  the  Dancer  297 

partaking  exclusively  of  the  nature  of  gymnastics. 
The  same  applies  to  the  positions  of  the  legs,  head,  and 
torso.  On  the  other  hand,  a  special  technique  has  been 
devised  to  develop  the  action  of  leaping  (to  the  detri- 
ment of  expressive  walking),  and  has  replaced  the 
pursuit  of  natural  balance  by  means  of  slow  or  quick 
corporal  displacements  by  abrupt  tensions  on  tiptoe. 
Dancing  has  become  a  form  of  acrobatics,  and  the  arms 
are  employed  merely  to  maintain  balance.  This  has 
produced  a  species  of  physical  deformity  that  prevents 
the  dancer,  habituated  from  his  youth  to  the  processes 
of  the  traditional  ballet,  from  cultivating  an  easy  and 
natural  slow  gait,  the  divers  brachial  dynamisms,  and, 
generally,  the  most  simple  expressive  expedients  of  the 
dance  "a  la  Duncan."  One  cannot  serve  both  God 
and  Mammon. 

One  must,  however,  admit  that  some  of  the  ballet 
effects  in  question  possess  a  certain  grace  and  pictur- 
esqueness  that  may  give  rise,  on  occasion,  to  considerable 
pleasure.  But  it  is  a  pleasure  confined  to  the  eyes,  and 
cannot  attain  any  really  emotional  or  musical  value. 

And  yet  music  is  the  basis  of  the  most  conventional 
dance,  and  we  have  a  right  to  demand  from  dancers  that 
elements  of  musical  phrasing,  shading,  time,  and  dy- 
namics should  be  observed  by  them  as  scrupulously  as 
practicable.  To  dance  in  time  is  not  everything.  The  es- 
sential is  to  penetrate  the  musical  thought  to  its  depths, 
while  following  the  melodic  lines  and  the  rhythmic 
pattern,  not  necessarily  "to  the  letter" — which  would 
be  pedantic — but  in  such  a  way  that  the  visual  sen- 
sations of  the  spectator  may  not  be  out  of  harmony 
with  those  of  his  auditive  apparatus.  Music  should 


298    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

be  to  dancers  not  a  mere  invitation  to  the  play  of  cor- 
poral movements,  but  a  constant  and  profuse  source  of 
thought  and  inspiration  (musical,  and  not  literary,  in- 
spiration— for  the  stagey  effects  of  external  imitation 
and  the  transmutation  of  natural  musical  impulses  into 
sentimental  little  stories  should  be  confined  to  Panto- 
mime). Music  should  reveal  to  the  dancer  inner  and 
higher  forces  that  any  intellectual  analysis  or  pursuit 
of  the  picturesque  can  only  weaken.  It  will  serve  his 
purpose  only  so  long  as  he  does  not  exploit  it  in  the 
interests  of  an  exclusively  ratiocinative  expression. 

But  it  must  not  be  inferred  that,  to  revive  musico- 
plastic  art,  it  will  suffice  to  give  our  dancers  a  sound 
musical  training.  They  must  in  addition  be  made  to 
understand  the  intimate  connection  between  musical 
and  bodily  movement,  between  the  developments  of  a 
theme,  and  the  successive  sequences  and  transforma- 
tions of  attitudes,  between  sound  intensity  and  muscu- 
lar dynamics,  between  rests  and  pauses,  counterpoint 
and  countergesture,  melodic  phrasing  and  breathing — 
in  short,  between  space  and  time. 

This  understanding  cannot  be  improvised,  but  ne- 
cessitates a  general  training.  We  do  not  commend  it  to 
dancers  who  aim  no  higher  than  at  the  amusement  of 
the  eye  or  the  exercise  of  their  muscles — nor  to  those 
whose  vocation  consists  in  executing  popular  and  na- 
tional dances,  the  Court  dances  of  past  ages,  or  the 
capricious  evolutions  of  the  modern  ballroom  and  cafe. 
But  it  is  essential  to  every  dancer  who  ventures  to 
transpose  works  of  absolute  music  into  corporal  move- 
ment. There  may  exist,  in  the  theatre,  an  art  of  "deco- 
rative plastic"  confined  to  embellishing  the  outlines  of 


Music  and  the  Dancer  299 

musical  architecture,  but  there  also  exists  an  expressive 
plastic,  the  role  of  which  consists  in  extracting  from 
music  its  ideal  aspirations  and  whole  emotional  life. 
This  should  not  be  undertaken  unless  accompanied  by 
a  profound  respect  for  music  as  an  inspiring  force,  and 
for  the  human  organism  as  its  potential  interpreter. 

We  must  bear  in  mind  that  plastic  is  never  neces- 
sary to  "absolute"  music,  which  works  in  the  deeps 
of  the  spirit,  and  the  emotions  of  which  frequently 
suffer  by  being  brought  to  the  surface.  Music  is  cer- 
tainly the  most  potent  agent  that  exists  for  revealing 
to  man  all  the  passions  that  surge  in  the  obscure  pro- 
fundities of  his  subconscious  self.  Its  vibrations  suffice 
to  awaken  and  distribute  his  feelings;  its  tonal  and 
rhythmic  combinations  constitute  a  special  language 
complete  without  the  addition  of  any  other  agent  of 
expression.  Every  phrase  directly  issued  from  an  essen- 
tially musical  soul  is  self-sufficient,  and  any  attempt  at 
strengthening  the  expression  by  means  of  mediums  of 
another  order  can  only  prejudice  its  clarity  and  power. 
Why  should  we  desire  to  improve  on  it,  when  it  is 
complete  in  itself?  Similarly,  any  direct  revelation  of 
inner  feeling  by  means  of  moving  plastic  can  only 
assist  the  sound  expression,  where  it  is  a  spontaneous 
emanation,  and  manifests  itself  in  a  naturally  emotive, 
eloquent,  and  distinct  form.  In  so  doing  it  qualifies  as 
music  itself,  since  the  art  of  music  is  only,  in  R.  Pas- 
manik's  definition,  the  "revelation  of  the  quintessence 
of  the  universe." 

But,  just  as  music  may  be  allied  to  the  word  in  the 
form  of  music  drama  or  ballad,  so  it  may  be  combined 
with  plastic  to  express  elementary  emotion  in  a  mixed 


300    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

language.  In  the  one  case  as  in  the  other,  music  must 
be  kept  within  bounds,  and  obliged  to  diminish  its 
expressive  power  to  enable  the  element  with  which  it  is 
associated  to  assert  itself,  not  with  redundancy  but  in 
collaboration.  Combination  implies  assimilation;  only 
such  poems  as  are  designed  by  their  authors  for  a 
musical  complement  should  be  set  to  music,  and  only 
music  that  has  been  intended  by  the  composer  to  be 
completed  by  human  movement,  or  which  is  modelled 
on  the  primitive  forms  of  the  dance,  should  be  expressed 
plastically.  Thus  in  a  great  number  of  the  instrumental 
pieces  of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries,  the 
rhythm  is  of  a  manifestly  corporal  origin.  The  same 
rhythms  permeate  the  choral  music  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  The  majority  of  the  chorales  of  Albert,  Schein, 
Hassler,  Kreiger,  etc.,  are  really  dance  music.  Many  of 
the  French,  English,  and  Italian  works  of  the  same 
epoch  are  of  a  similar  character.  The  later  Corantes, 
Passepieds,  Allemandes,  and  Sarabandes  of  J.  S.  Bach 
were  written  in  the  form  of  dances,  just  as  a  number 
of  his  fugues  (Nos.  2  in  C  minor,  II  in  F,  15  in  G,  etc., 
of  the  "48"  Book  I,  for  example)  were  constructed  on 
popular  dance  motifs. 

All  the  inventions  and  fugues  designed  for  amuse- 
ment, without  regard  for  any  intimate  emotion,  and 
the  sole  aim  of  which  is  to  depict  a  sort  of  chase,  may 
be  interpreted  by  human  groups  in  lines,  fleeing  from 
each  other.  The  rhythmic  impression  produced  by  the 
rich  polyphony  must,  in  my  own,  as  well  as  in  the 
opinion  of  such  fervid  Bach  enthusiasts  as  Ad.  Prosniz, 
Fritz  Steinbach,  R.  Buchmayer,  Ch.  Bordes,  etc.,  be 
thereby  considerably  enhanced.  Nevertheless  their 


Music  and  the  Dancer  301 

counterpoint  is  often  of  such  a  strictly  digital  character, 
that  a  corporal  interpretation  can  only  be  achieved  at 
the  cost  of  a  fatal  decrease  in  pace.  That  is  why  it 
should  be  essayed — as  with  the  abstract  thematic  de- 
velopments of  the  succeeding  period  (Haydn,  Mozart) — 
only  in  an  analytic  and  pedagogic  spirit.  The  same 
risk  attaches  to  orchestral  transcriptions,  for  dancing 
purposes,  of  modern  and  romanticist  pianoforte  pieces. 
We  recall  with  a  feeling  of  discomfort  the  cumbersome 
effect  of  Schumann's  Carnival  interpreted  by  the 
Russian  Ballet  in  the  style  of  pantomime.  Dancers 
would  do  well  to  insist  on  contemporary  composers  writ- 
ing special  music  for  them.  But  the  latter  must  bear  in 
mind  that  the  collaboration  of  gesture,  while  it  offers 
them  novel  and  interesting  possibilities,  imposes  cer- 
tain special  restrictions  on  their  freedom  of  expression. 
We  shall  require  the  composition  of  a  music  intention- 
ally non-rhythmic  to  allow  for  completion  by  rhythm 
of  a  corporal  character.  On  the  other  hand,  the  har- 
monious attitudes  of  dancers  exclusively  occupied 
in  interpreting  the  superficial  aspect  of  certain  soul- 
states  might  be  accompanied  by  musical  rhythms  to 
strengthen  the  vital  impression  of  their  ideal  represen- 
tation. The  dance  could  also  be  made  to  serve  to 
express  the  Dionysian  side  of  artistic  expression,  while 
music  conveys  the  Apollonian  side  or,  conversely, 
sounds  could  reproduce  the  frenzy  of  elemental  passions 
in  sensorial  language,  while  the  dance  embodied  their 
decorative  forms  in  space.  In  one,  as  in  the  other  case, 
we  should  achieve  a  spiritualisation  of  matter,  a  pure 
expression  of  soul,  an  idealisation  of  form,  and  an  emo- 
tionalisation  of  sensation. 


302    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

It  is  always  dangerous  to  attempt  to  adapt  subjective 
music,  of  an  essentially  human  character,  to  the  physi- 
cal resources  of  temperament.  The  intimate  essence  of 
a  work  is  never  wholly  revealed  to  us  when  an  instru- 
mentalist— or  conductor — endeavours  to  adapt  it  to  his 
individual  manner  of  expression.  In  making  the  work 
his  own,  he  robs  it  of  its  universal  emotional  character. 
He  is  not  interpreting,  but  rather  transforming,  re- 
creating, it.  The  inevitable  coarsening  of  a  thought 
cannot  fail  to  jar  on  those  who  were  familiar  with  it 
in  its  original  form.  In  a  musico-plastic  combination, 
no  one  of  the  agents  of  expression  should  seek  to  fuse 
completely  with  another:  each  should  endeavour  to 
bring  out  the  other.  To  obtain  this  result,  it  is  neces- 
sary not  only  that  the  dancer  should  be  completely 
initiated  into  musical  science,  but  that  the  composer 
should  utilise  every  one  of  the  expressive  potentialities 
of  the  human  organism. 

A  musician  would  not  venture  to  compose  a  violin 
concerto  without  a  knowledge  of  the  resources  of  that 
instrument.  How  then  can  he  dare  project  a  score  for 
that  complex  instrument,  the  human  body,  without 
familiarising  himself  with  its  capacities  for  interpreta- 
tion? If  he  understood  these,  he  would  not  limit  him- 
self to  recording  musical  rhythms,  and  leaving  the 
maUre  de  ballet  to  procure  their  imitation  by  his  troupe, 
he  would  produce  a  score  wherein  the  miming,  gestures, 
movements,  and  attitudes  of  the  dancers  would  be  as 
scrupulously  entered  as  are  those  of  the  string,  wind, 
and  percussion  instruments  in  a  symphony. 

Instead  of  always  developing  the  sound  and  plastic 
movements  along  parallel  lines,  effects  of  contrast  might 


Music  and  the  Dancer  303 

be  achieved  in  the  metre  and  rhythm  as  well  as  in  the 
melody  and  harmony.  For  instance,  music  arranged  in 
simple  tune  (binary  pulse)  might  be  set  off,  as  in  orien- 
tal music,  by  plastic  motifs  in  compound  time  (ternary 
pulse).  To  the  rhythmic  accentuations  of  each  tonal 
phrase  would  be  offered  corporal  accentuations  em- 
phasising other  fragments  of  the  same  phrase.  Musical 
melody  might  be  applied  to  a  harmony  of  plastic  move- 
ments executed  by  several  individuals  acting  in  concert, 
or  in  groups,  or — by  way  of  variation — a  succession  of 
corporal  movements  of  a  monorhythmic  character 
might  be  accompanied  by  harmonies  of  sound.  One 
might  devise  a  whole  harmonic  system  of  gestures 
arranged  in  chords  and  having  their  inevitable  resolu- 
tions like  combinations  of  sound. 

Effects  of  concord  and  discord,  of  contrast  and  fusion, 
created  by  the  combination  of  orchestral  symphony  and 
corporal  polyrhythm,  might  be  enriched  by  various 
combinations  involved  in  moving  plastic — which  de- 
mands, before  all  else,  the  co-operation  of  groups  of 
individuals.  A  dancer  would  require  to  be  a  genius  of 
a  very  high  order  to  dance  solo  to  divers  musical  works 
throughout  a  whole  recital  without  producing  an  effect 
of  monotony. 

Too  many  solo  dancers  are  content  to  narrate  cor- 
porally a  series  of  little  stories,  without  attempting  to 
vary  the  medium  of  expression.  Varieties  of  facial  play 
do  not  suffice  to  produce  varieties  of  movements  of 
the  whole  body.  There  is  not  a  single  musical  instru- 
ment— with  the  exception  of  the  polyphonic  piano — 
that  could  be  played,  to  the  exclusion  of  every  other, 
for  two  consecutive  hours,  without  wearying  an  audi- 


304    Music,  Rhythm,  and  Education 

ence.  And  the  same  applies  to  the  solo  dancer.  While, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  union  of  a  number  of  dancers 
permits  of  as  much  variety  of  effects  as  the  play  of 
several  instruments.  The  associations  of  timbres  pre- 
sent combinations  analogous  to  those  produced  by 
human  masses  differently  grouped. 

There  remains  for  us  to  indicate  under  what  condi- 
tions there  might  be  created — as  a  contrast  to  absolute 
music — a  special  music  adapted  to  gesture,  and  which, 
while  distinct  from  the  music  of  pantomime,  would, 
like  it,  be  deprived  of  all  technical  development,  con- 
structed on  simple  and  regular  lines,  and  would  leave — 
at  considerable  sacrifice — a  large  scope  for  the  collabo- 
ration of  human  movements.  Its  function  would  con- 
sist in  inspiring  and  animating  the  body — the  source  of 
its  own  inspiration  and  animation — in  acting  both  as 
its  master  and  its  servant,  identifying  itself  with  it, 
while  preserving  its  own  individuality. 

A  difficult  and  complex  task,  no  doubt,  but  one  that 
will  certainly  be  accomplished,  once  the  dancer  has 
become  a  musician,  and  can  persuade  the  composer  to 
spare  him  the  effects  of  merely  decorative  music,  and 
devote  his  gifts  along  the  lines  of  a  more  human  and 
vital  art.  A  new  style  will  have  to  be  created,  product 
of  the  collaboration  of  two  equally  expressive  arts, 
with  the  potential  participation  of  a  whole  public 
trained  to  co-operate  with  the  artist,  and  to  assume  a 
responsible  part  in  his  performances.  The  time  is 
ripe — as  Adolphe  Appia  has  told  us — to  assert  the  dig- 
nity of  our  dramatic  instincts,  the  triumphal  gateway 
giving  access  to  all  the  other  arts.  .  .  .  This  "living 
fiction"  alone  can  confer  on  us  a  status  in  the  art  realm, 


Geneva  Festival,  1914 


Music  and  the  Dancer  305 

and  can  initiate  us  into  the  mysteries  of  style.  This 
transfiguring  art — the  art  that  by  its  rhythm  unites 
our  whole  organism  to  the  quintessential  expression  of 
the  soul — would  seem  to  be  on  the  wane;  but  it  is 
only  a  cloud  that  obscures  it.  ...  Music  is  always 
with  us.  Let  us  open  ourselves  to  it;  we  have  relin- 
quished to  it  the  ardent  expression  of  our  inner  life, 
let  us  yield  to  its  new  demands,  deliver  up  to  it,  without 
reserve,  the  whole  rhythm  of  our  bodies,  to  be  transfig- 
ured and  emerge  in  the  aesthetic  world  of  light  and 
shade,  forms  and  colours,  controlled  and  animated  by 
its  creative  breath. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
RHYTHM,  TIME,  AND  TEMPERAMENT  (1919) 

Balance  of  physical  and  emotional  faculties — Rhythm  and 
its  characteristics;  continuity  and  repetition — Time  an  in- 
tellectual principle — Necessity  for  counterbalancing  regularity 
of  movements  by  contrasting  spontaneous  impulses.  Danger 
of  stereotyping  instinctive  motor  faculties — Rhythm  and  Intui- 
tion— Motor  habits  and  character — Manifestation  of  divers 
temperaments — Table  of  qualities  and  defects  of  a  rhythmic 
nature,  in  untrained  children — Association  and  dissociation 
of  motor  and  auditive  faculties — Natural  aptitude  for  rhythm 
and  music  in  children  of  different  European  countries. 


307 


CHAPTER   XIV 


RHYTHM,  TIME,  AND  TEMPERAMENT  (1919) 

Music  is  the  direct  reflection  of  emotional,  as  of  mate- 
rial, life,  and  musical  rhythm  is  only  the  transposition 
into  sound  of  movements  and  dynamisms  spontane- 
ously and  involuntarily  expressing  emotion.  Conse- 
quently evolution  in  the  art  of  Music  must  depend  on 
the  progress  of  the  individual,  by  means  of  a  careful 
training  in  the  balancing  of  his  physical  and  moral, 
instinctive  and  ratiocinative,  forces.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  very  few  people  suspect  that,  if  every  form  of  ar- 
tistic progress  depends  on  a  general  mental  advance,  a 
reform  of  musical  education  can  be  achieved  only 
through  a  reform  of  general  education.  The  latter  in 
our  present-day  schools  lays  stress  on  mere  instruction, 
concerns  itself  exclusively  with  intellectual  develop- 
ment, and  ignores  the  cultivation  of  temperament. 

A  balance  of  the  fundamental  faculties  of  the  indi- 
vidual can  never  be  attained  unless,  from  an  early  age, 
the  organism  is  habituated  to  the  free  play  of  its  forces, 
an  unhampered  circulation  of  the  divers  currents  of  its 
thought  and  motor  powers,  and  a  regular  alternation  — 
controlled  alike  by  sub-conscious  instincts  and  conscious 
will-power  —  of  physical  and  spiritual  rhythms,  of  which 
the  ensemble  constitutes  temperament.  The  man  of 

309 


310    Music,  Rhythm,  and  Education 

science  should  be  capable  at  a  moment's  notice  of  trans- 
lating himself  into  a  man  of  action.  Indeed,  the  ideal 
education,  and  that  especially  to  be  desired,  now  that 
the  war  is  over,  is  one  which  will  enable  our  children  to 
subordinate  their  practical  to  their  mental  habits,  and 
to  convert  their  intellectual  rhythms,  as  occasion  de- 
mands, into  physical  actions  of  the  same  order.  The 
"intellectual"  should  no  longer  be  differentiated  from 
the  man  of  physical  capacities.  There  should  be  a  me- 
dium of  free  exchange  and  intimate  union  between  the 
respective  organs  of  corporal  movement  and  of  thought. 
No  longer  should  our  divers  functions  be  isolated  by 
voluntary  specialisation.  A  harmonisation  of  our  nerv- 
ous system,  the  stimulation  of  slack  motor  centres, 
control  of  instinctive  behaviour  and  spiritualisation  of 
corporal  manifestations,  should  establish  a  unity  in  our 
organism  both  for  preparatory  and  executory  purposes. 
And  the  training  involved  is  neither  forced  nor  labori- 
ous— on  the  contrary !  Our  freedom  as  men  of  thought 
and  action  depends  on  this  unity  of  the  rhythms  of 
thought  and  life.  A  time  will  come  when  our  bodies 
attain — through  a  complete  reconquest  of  the  muscular 
sense — an  independence  bringing  our  acts  into  direct 
union  with  our  desires.  Therein  lies  the  cure  for  neu- 
rasthenia, and  the  recipe  for  the  constitution  of  the 
"whole  man,"  whose  vital  expression,  at  once  sponta- 
neous and  complete,  shall  have  the  double  character  of 
a  materialisation  of  the  ideal,  and  an  idealisation  of 
physical  potentialities.  The  two  poles  of  our  being  will 
be  intimately  connected  by  a  single  rhythm:  the  ex- 
pression of  our  individuality.  And,  thereupon,  art  will 
lose  its  metaphysical  character,  and  constitute  a  spon- 


Rhythm,  Time,  and  Temperament  311 

taneous  manifestation  of  our  inner  being,  directly  re- 
presenting the  rhythms  of  its  life. 

The  characteristics  of  rhythm  are  continuity  and 
repetition.  Every  motor  manifestation,  isolated  in 
time,  presents  an  exceptional  and  momentary  emotional 
aspect,  which  is  lost  the  moment  it  is  repeated  to  form 
part  of  a  continuous  whole  evolving  at  once  in  time  and 
space.  The  two  fundamental  elements  of  rhythm, 
space,  and  time,  are  inseparable.  In  certain  of  the  arts 
one  or  other  of  these  elements  may  be  predominant; 
in  music,  and  in  the  supreme  art — life,  they  are  dis- 
soluble and  of  equal  importance.  Life,  in  effect,  is 
itself  a  rhythm,  that  is,  a  continuous  succession  of 
multiple  units,  forming  an  indivisible  whole.  Indi- 
viduality may  also  be  regarded  as  a  rhythm,  for  the 
combination  of  its  faculties,  many  of  them  conflicting, 
constitute  an  entity.  But  every  life  and  every  work 
of  art  that  conforms  only  to  the  idiosyncracies  of  the 
individual  is  a-rhythmic,  for  the  rhythm  of  art  and  of 
life  demand  the  fusion  of  all  traits  of  character  and 
temperament. 

Metre,  an  intellectual  expedient,  regulates  mechani- 
cally the  succession  and  order  of  vital  elements  and 
their  combinations,  while  rhythm  assures  the  integrity 
of  the  essential  principles  of  life.  Metre  involves  ratio- 
cination, rhythm  depends  on  intuition.  The  metrical 
regulation  of  the  continuous  movements  constituting 
a  rhythm  should  not  be  permitted  to  compromise  the 
nature  and  quality  of  those  movements. 

The  musical  education,  following  the  lines  of  the 
general  education  provided  in  our  schools,  is  inspired  by 
the  desire  to  regulate  sounds  and  harmonies,  establish- 


Music,  Rhythm,  and  Education 

ing  the  theories  of  the  science,  and  reducing  it  to  a 
system,  all  of  them  activities  of  a  material  order.  Cer- 
tainly the  regularity  and  precision  of  movements  are 
sure  evidence  of  healthy  volition,  but  educationists  are 
mistaken  in  regarding  the  will  as  the  sole  medium  of 
control,  and  begetter  of  a  complete,  individual,  and  well- 
proportioned  work  of  art.  The  creation  of  a  movement 
of  synthetic  life  is  a  matter  of  temperament ;  pedagogues 
are  oblivious  of  the  fact  that  a  special  training  will 
develop  the  spontaneity  of  vital  rhythmic  manifesta- 
tions, and  by  placing  the  student  in  a  position  to  feel 
clearly  every  instinctive  movement,  and  providing  him 
with  the  means  of  subduing  all  the  forces  inhibitory  of 
the  expansion  of  his  motor  habits,  will  enable  him  also 
to  breathe  in  a  new  emotional  atmosphere,  and  free 
his  emotions  to  attain  a  maximum  intensity.  Instead 
of  directing  musical  studies  towards  rhythm,  we  limit 
their  scope  to  the  metrical  plane.  The  encouragement, 
by  assiduous  cultivation,  of  the  efflorescence  of  motor 
impulses  is  neglected  in  favour  of  a  concentration  on 
the  creation  of  measured  volitions.  The  same  applies 
to  dancing,  which,  in  our  best -known  academies  is  con- 
fined to  the  acquirement  of  a  corporal  technique;  the 
training  aims  at  the  conquest  of  measure,  and  is  confined 
to  the  regulation  of  arbitrary  successions  of  gestures  and 
movements,  instead  of  inspiring,  by  the  development 
of  temperament,  the  expansion  of  natural  corporal, 
rhythms.  Music  and  dancing  alike  are  at  the  present 
day  taught  along  mechanical  lines. 

A  machine,  however  perfectly  regulated,  is  devoid  of 
rhythm  being  controlled  by  time.  To  regulate  the  move- 
ments effected  by  a  manual  labourer  in  the  exercise  of 


Rhythm,  Time,  and  Temperament   313 

his  calling,  is  by  no  means  to  assure  the  rhythm  of  his 
activity.  The  handwriting  of  a  copyist  conveys  the 
impression  of  mechanical  and  impersonal  regularity. 
That  of  a  writer,  giving  rein  to  his  inspiration,  records, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  rhythm  of  his  temperament. 
Versification  is  only  the  metrical  side  of  poesy.  The 
rhythmics  of  poesy  depends  on  the  underlying  thought, 
impulse,  and  non-reasoning  qualities.  Natural  dancing 
may  be  duly  measured,  without  revealing  the  impulsive 
spirit,  the  physical  and  moral  phantasy — that  is,  the 
rhythm — of  the  dancer.  The  submission  of  our  breath- 
ing to  discipline  and  regularity  of  time  would  lead  to 
the  suppression  of  every  instinctive  emotion  and  the 
disorganisation  of  vital  rhythm. 

The  voluntary  exercise  of  the  recurrence  of  the  beat 
assures  regularity — and  there  are  times  when  this  regu- 
larity is  indispensable.  But  to  confine  oneself  to  this 
form  of  activity  would  be  to  risk  depriving  one's  char- 
acter of  all  spontaneous  vital  expression.  Time  fur- 
nishes man  with  an  instrument,  which,  in  many  cases, 
ends  by  making  him  its  servant,  influencing  the  dy- 
namic and  agogic  elements  in  his  movements,  and  re- 
pressing his  individuality  in  favour  of  a  conventional 
mechanism.  The  metrical  regulation  of  bodily  move- 
ments— one  of  the  main  features  of  most  systems  of 
gymnastics — has  been  made  possible  by  the  discovery 
that  many  organisms  have  lost  their  elementary  char- 
acter and  natural  impulses,  and  require  to  be  remoulded 
through  the  will.  But  in  every  healthy  body,  the  need 
for  movement  is  associated  with  other  needs  of  a  super- 
metrical  order  (as  Lieut.  Hebert  well  understood),  and 
the  resultant  expression  arises  from  the  nervous  con- 


3H    Music,  Rhythm,  and  Education 

stitution  of  the  organism.  If  we  consider  the  art  of 
movement  on  the  stage,  we  must  recognize  that  as  soon 
as  the  artist — be  he  dancer  or  comedian — attempts 
the  arbitrary  and  artificial  regulation  of  his  gestures, 
and  is  content  to  conform  to  the  laws  of  measure  and 
decorative  effect,  his  play  loses  all  rhythmic  spontane- 
ity. Metrical  regulation  must  be  subservient  to  rhyth- 
mic impulses. 

The  same  applies  to  music,  where  the  metric  tradi- 
tion kills  every  spontaneous  agogic  impulse,  every  ar- 
tistic expression  of  emotion  by  means  of  time  nuances. 
The  composer  who  is  obliged  to  bend  his  inspiration 
to  the  inflexible  laws  of  symmetry  in  time-lengths 
comes  gradually  to  modify  his  instinctive  rhythms, 
with  a  view  to  unity  of  measure,  and  finishes  by  con- 
ceiving only  rhythms  of  a  conventional  time-pattern. 
In  the  folk-song,  the  rhythm  responds  spontaneously 
and  naturally  to  the  emotion  that  has  inspired  it, 
and  is  not  fettered  by  any  metrical  rules.  Not  only  do 
unequal  bars  succeed  each  other  in  flexible  and  har- 
monious alternation,  and  the  principle  of  irregularity  of 
beats  is  audaciously  asserted,  in  defiance  of  hallowed 
laws.  All  music  inspired  by  folk-tunes  rings  rhythmic 
and  spontaneous,  and  the  irresistible  impulse  of  Russian 
music,  and  of  the  modern  French  school,  is  due  to  their 
instinctive  return  to  the  natural  rhythms  of  folk-lore. 
But  once  this  return  is  premeditated,  the  rhythms 
lose  their  sincerity  and  vital  qualities,  for,  we  must  never 
forget,  rhythm  is  a  non-reasoning  principle,  originating 
in  elementary  vital  emotions.  Only  the  cultivation  of 
primitive  instincts,  a  "clean  sweep"  of  our  present 
selves,  by  a  re-training  of  the  nervous  system,  can  give 


Rhythm,  Time,  and  Temperament  315 

our  motor  organs  the  faculties  of  elasticity,  resilience, 
and  relaxation,  the  free  play  of  which  will  give  rhythm 
to  the  expression  of  our  emotional  being. 

This  training  is  also  the  only  one  that  can  restore 
the  art  of  dancing.  The  present  training  obliges  the 
dancer  to  illustrate  by  concurrent  steps  and  gestures 
a  music  deprived  of  rhythm  by  the  exclusive  cultiva- 
tion of  metre.  There  again  we  find  the  mechanism 
of  instinctive  motor  qualities,  and  the  intellectual- 
isation  of  fundamental  emotions.  The  imperative 
impulse  evoked  by  a  feeling  can  express  itself  ade- 
quately only  by  the  aid  of  a  spontaneous  gesture. 
Once  the  will  has  intervened,  the  current  between 
nerves  and  muscles  is  interrupted.  Under  these  con- 
ditions, all  exercises  aiming  at  the  automatisation  of 
conventional  successions  of  gestures  and  attitudes  are 
prejudicial  to  the  development  of  the  rhythmic  facul- 
ties. A  renaissance  of  the  dance  can  only  be  achieved 
by  the  subordination  of  external  metre  to  the  free  and 
continuous  expression  of  inner  rhythms.  Esthetics 
should  be  born  of  Ethics.  In  the  same  way,  musical 
rhythm  can  only  flourish  with  the  support  of  expressive 
elements  issued  directly  from  the  depths  of  the  ego  and 
supplanting  all  the  formulas  of  metre. 

Apart  from  that,  artistic  feeling  can  only  be  devel- 
oped with  the  co-operation  of  music,  the  only  art, 
inherently  free  from  ratiocination.  To  suppress,  by 
certain  educative  means,  the  nervous  and  intellectual 
inhibitions  that  prevent  the  organism  from  submitting 
to  the  control  of  musical  rhythms,  and  to  teach  that 
organism  to  vibrate  in  unison  with  sound  vibrations, 
will  be  to  liberate  impulses  long  repressed  by  a  mechani- 


316    Music,  Rhythm,  and  Education 

cal  training  restricting  the  instinctive  inspiration  of 
mankind;  more,  it  will  idealise  our  physical,  and  re- 
suscitate our  spiritual,  forces,  and  thus  herald  the  birth 
of  a  musical  art  at  once  more  emotional  and  more  vital. 

The  rhythm  of  every  work  and  of  every  action  reacts 
immediately  on  the  nature  or  the  degree  of  individuality 
of  its  author,  representing  always  the  direct  expression 
of  the  sensations  and  feelings  of  the  individual.  Doubt- 
less it  can  be  imitated  and  stereotyped,  but,  in  that 
process,  it  loses  its  fundamental  principle,  being  born 
of  emotion,  which  can  only  be  expressed  by  means  di- 
rectly inspired  by  intuition.  The  imitation  of  elemental 
rhythms  relates  to  the  realm  of  purely  intellectual  pro- 
cesses, based  on  deduction.  As  James  Schelley  has 
aptly  expressed  it,  in  an  article  on  Rhythm  and  Art: 
"Rhythm  is  to  intuition,  emotion,  and  aesthetics,  what 
scientific  order  and  logic  are  to  the  intellect.  One  of 
the  essential  qualities — if  not  the  essential  quality — of 
rhythm  is  its  power  of  conveying  the  presence  of  life. 
Mechanical  order,  on  the  other  hand,  is  objective  and 
impersonal.  .  .  .  Time  passes  and  is  scientifically 
recorded  by  the  mechanical  oscillations  of  the  pendu- 
lum. And  yet,  for  some  of  us  time  'ambles  withal,' 
for  others  he  'trots  and  gallops  withal,'  for  others,  again, 
he  'stands  still  withal." 

There  is  an  immediate  connection  between  the  in- 
stinctive movements  of  our  body,  the  continuity  of 
which  forms  and  assures  rhythm,  and  the  processes  of 
our  psychic  life. 

It  would  seem  that  rhythm  imprints  a  definite  char- 
acter on  the  speculations  of  thought,  moulding  their 


Rhythm,  Time,  and  Temperament  31? 

form  of  expression  and  dictating  the  language  suitable 
for  revealing  the  fundamental  principles  of  sensorial 
life  and  transplanting  them  into  the  realm  of  emotion. 
It  would  seem,  moreover,  that  by  virtue  of  some  secret 
mechanism  not  yet  defined  by  psycho-physiologists,  the 
mind  possesses  the  power  of  choosing  from  among  all 
the  motor  sensations  of  the  individual  those  most  con- 
genial for  transfiguration  into  durable  impressions  and 
definitely  rhythmic  images. 

The  more  we  succeed — thanks  to  our  education — in 
detaching  our  instinctive  corporal  movements  from  the 
shackles  forged  by  circumstances  and  environment,  and 
preserved  by  heredity,  the  more  we  shall  eliminate 
intellectual  and  nervous  inhibitions,  adverse  to  the 
spontaneous  motor  manifestations  of  our  organism ;  the 
more  also  will  our  muscular  play  evoke  precise  rhythmic 
images,  expressive  of  our  individuality,  for  the  service 
of  the  mind,  and  the  latter  will  contrive  to  record 
certain  sequences  in  such  a  way  as  to  confirm  its 
momentary  impressions.  These  sequences  will  vary  ac- 
cording to  the  state  of  the  mind  at  the  moment  it  is 
engaged  in  fixing  these  images.  Intuition  will  indicate 
those  that  must  be  eliminated  to  avoid  compromising 
the  direct  expression  of  the  temperament,  as  "attuned" 
at  any  given  moment  of  our  life.  This  attunement  is 
capable  of  considerable  variation,  and  that  is  why  the 
rhythms  of  certain  works  of  art  may  appeal  to  us  differ- 
ently, according  to  the  moment  when  they  are  presented 
to  us,  although  our  mechanical  processes  of  judgment 
cause  us  to  appraise  them,  from  the  intellectual  point 
of  view,  in  a  consistently  similar  manner. 

The  function  of  temperament  should  be  to  adopt 


Music,  Rhythm,  and  Education 

spontaneously  every  motor  manifestation  capable  of 
expressing  the  particular  state  of  our  organism  at  any 
given  moment.  To  contrive,  by  means  of  a  special 
training,  to  enable  the  child  to  sense  distinctly  the 
nature  of  its  instinctive  corporal  rhythms,  and  of  their 
divers  successions,  is  to  render  him  capable  of  sensing 
life  itself  in  a  more  freely  emotive  spirit.  Emotions 
can  only  attain  their  maximum  intensity  when  all  the 
faculties  of  the  being  expand  in  a  single  harmony,  while 
nerves  and  muscles  expend  their  emotive  force  with 
full,  synergic,  and  precise  power.  How  can  we  expect 
the  child's  sensibility  to  flourish  if  we  do  not  cultivate 
his  elementary  vital  manifestations  from  the  first,  and 
throughout  his  school  training?  Surely  it  is  the  most 
bizarre  of  anomalies  to  teach  him  the  rhythms  of  the 
speech  and  thought  of  others  before  enabling  him  to 
sense  those  of  his  own  organism? 

The  question  of  education  assumes  a  capital  import- 
ance in  relation  to  post-war  generations.  This  is 
universally  recognised,  and  England — among  other 
countries — has  for  two  years  already  been  seeking  the 
means  of  according  more  ample  space  in  its  curriculum 
for  experiments  aiming  at  the  imbuement  of  self-know- 
ledge and  the  harmonisation  of  intellectual  and  ethical 
conceptions  with  the  most  simple  means  of  expression, 
founded  on  a  perfect  understanding  of  their  physical 
potentialities.  The  Minister  of  Education  himself  con- 
tributes to  the  investigation  of  current  methods  of 
scholastic  instruction,  and  takes  a  personal  interest  in 
all  research  for  means  of  developing  the  child's  tempera- 
ment, and  faculties  of  free  will.  This  example  will  cer- 


Rhythm,  Time,  and  Temperament   3J9 

tainly  be  followed  sooner  or  later  by  all  other  countries. 
It  is  the  duty  of  educational  authorities  to  see  that  edu- 
cation does  not  stagnate,  and  to  seek  progress  in  the 
direction  of  a  new  system  designed,  in  elementary 
schools  as  at  the  universities,  to  limit  the  number  of 
purely  intellectual  subjects  in  favour  of  conveying  to 
the  minds  of  our  future  citizens  what  we  may  call  their 
temperamental  sense. 

The  possession  of  highly  developed  impulses  and 
racial  instincts  should  be  supplemented  by  the  power  of 
controlling  these  faculties  by  an  intelligence  instructed 
in  the  diversity  of  their  powers.  Education  must  no 
longer  confine  itself  to  the  enlightenment  of  pupils  in 
intellectual  and  physical  phenomena.  It  must  conduce 
to  the  formation  of  character,  assuring  to  children  the 
consciousness  both  of  their  weaknesses  and  of  their 
capacities,  and  rectifying  the  former  as  it  strengthens 
the  latter,  while  enabling  them  to  adapt  themselves  to 
the  exigencies  of  the  new  social  order.  It  is  no  longer  a 
question  of  a  simple  development  of  the  scientific  and 
analytical  mentality,  but  rather  of  an  evolution  of  the 
entire  organism. 

It  is  often  in  the  most  trivial  actions  that  the  most 
intimate  traits  of  character  reveal  themselves.  Motor 
habits  betray  them  as  distinctly  as  facial  expression. 
Motor  habits  can  be  modified  by  education  and  trans- 
mit this  improvement  to  the  character.  "Education 
without  a  definite  aim  produces  an  indefinite  character," 
as  Legouve  expressed  it,  and,  conversely,  one  that  aims 
consistently  at  the  regularisation  of  organic  functions 
under  the  control  of  a  lucid,  well-ordered,  and  resolute 
mind  must  inevitably  influence  the  character  in  the 


320    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

same  direction.  Character  is  not  only  the  direct  ex- 
pression of  temperament,  but  also  the  product  of  the 
mind's  discoveries,  in  relation  to  the  general  faculties  of 
the  motor  and  nervous  systems,  the  control  and  har- 
monising of  which  form  part  of  its  functions.  And,  if 
Taine  was  right  in  affirming  that  "the  character  of  a 
people  may  be  regarded  as  the  compound  of  all  its  past 
sensations,"  it  follows  that  the  acquisition  of  more 
numerous  and  stronger  sensations,  under  the  influence 
of  a  new  education,  must  serve  to  create  in  our  mentali- 
ties reactions  inevitably  modifying  the  essence  of  our 
character. 

It  is  difficult  to  determine  whether  one  race  is  en- 
dowed with  stronger  rhythmic  sense  than  another;  but 
it  is  obvious  that  the  influence  of  climate,  customs,  and 
historical  and  economic  circumstances  must  have  pro- 
duced certain  differences  in  the  rhythmic  sense  of  each 
people,  which  are  reproduced  and  perpetuated  in  such 
a  way  as  to  imprint  a  peculiar  character  on  the  dynamic 
and  nervous  manifestations  at  the  root  of  every  original 
corporal  rhythm.  Certain  peoples,  for  instance,  present 
marked  differences  in  their  muscular  capacity  (which, 
according  to  Peron,  is  greater  in  Europeans  than  in 
savage  races)  and  in  the  nuances  of  their  nervous  mani- 
festations. The  structure  of  the  human  body  also 
varies  according  to  race,  and  must  play  an  important 
r61e  in  all  forms  of  motor  expression. 

Temperament  is  obviously  responsible  for  the  motor 
form  of  corporal  rhythmic  phenomena.  Certain  peoples 
are  more  nervous  than  full-blooded,  more  lymphatic 
than  choleric,  and  it  does  not  require  a  profound  analy- 


Rhythm,  Time,  and  Temperament   321 

sis  or  a  multitude  of  experiments  to  determine  the 
enormous  influence  of  the  fusion  and  association  of 
temperaments  on  the  phenomena  of  reaction  and  corpo- 
ral expression,  on  variations  of  dynamics,  agogics  (that 
is  "shading"  of  time),  and  manipulations  of  space,  pro- 
duced by  different  aptitudes  for  natural  rhythmic  ac- 
tions. The  divers  degrees  of  susceptibility  of  the  motor 
organs  introduce  nuances  into  the  spatial  character  of 
gestures  and  their  dynamic  expression.  Rhythmic  fac- 
ulties are  undoubtedly  less  highly  developed  in  some 
countries  than  in  others,  but  as  these  depend  not 
only  on  the  muscular  and  gyratory  senses,  but  on 
the  general  or  particular  state  of  the  nervous  sys- 
tem, we  may  assume  that  they  may  easily  be  modi- 
fied by  training.  The  same  applies  to  gifts  of  hearing 
and  distinguishing  of  sounds  which,  conjointly  with 
rhythmic  qualities,  constitute  the  substance  of  musical 
talent. 

Rhythmic  training  can  make  a  person  musical,  since 
impressions  of  musical  rhythms  inevitably  evoke  some 
sort  of  motor  image  in  the  mind,  and  instinctive  motor 
reactions  in  the  body,  of  the  hearer.  Muscular  sensa- 
tions eventually  coalesce  with  auditive  sensations 
which,  thus  re-inforced,  add  to  the  faculties  of  ap- 
preciation and  analysis.  The  ear  and  the  larynx  are 
organically  related,  and  their  functions  are  connected 
by  synergic  forces  dependent  on  the  associated  nerve 
centres.  The  vibrations  perceived  by  the  ear  may 
be  increased  by  the  augmentation  of  the  vibratory 
power  of  other  corporal  sources  of  resonance ;  for  sounds 
are  perceived  by  other  parts  of  the  human  organism 


322     Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

besides  the  ear.1  By  the  association  of  his  motor  and 
auditive  organs,  a  child  is  enabled  to  imitate  vocally  the 
rhythm  and  melody  of  a  song.  With  those  who  can  imitate 
only  the  rhythm,  and  sing  the  tune  incorrectly — and  who 
are  conscious  of  this  defect — it  is  practicable,  indeed, 
generally  easy,  to  rectify  the  accuracy  of  the  voice,  once 
regular  exercises  have  developed  the  inner  muscular 
sense. 

Character  and  temperament  are  easily  recognised, 
not  only  by  the  speed  of  gestures,  and  the  form  of  atti- 
tudes, but  also  by  the  nuances  of  tone  of  voice,  and  the 
rhythms  of  articulation.  Children  of  a  lymphatic  ten- 
dency speak  and  sing  quite  differently  from  their  robust 
or  nervous  comrades ;  and  so  with  their  motor  manifes- 
tations. Travellers  visiting  a  foreign  country  for  the 
first  time  obtain  an  impression  of  the  general  character 
of  the  people  from  the  accent  and  modulation  of  their 
speech.  Consider  the  difference  between  the  muscular 
lassitude,  the  nonchalant  facility,  the  heavy  and  coarse 
good  nature  in  the  oral  rhythms  of  the  Vaudois,  and 
the  monotonous  recitative  and  hesitations  of  the 
Genevan,  and  his  guttural  tone  produced  by  constant 
nervous  resistance  and  muscular  contractions,  Again, 
what  crispness,  abruptness,  harsh  and  deliberate  ag- 
gressiveness in  the  Prussian  speech!  What  imagina- 
tion and  conflict  of  rhythms  in  the  impulsive  volubility 
of  the  Latin,  what  terseness  and  purity  in  the  English- 
man's modulation  of  vowels,  what  melancholy  and  lack 

1 1  knew  a  person,  deaf  from  birth,  who  never  missed  a  musical 
performance,  and  was  sensitive  not  only  to  the  dynamic  but  also  to  the 
harmonic  qualities  of  the  music. 


Rhythm,  Time,  and  Temperament   323 

of  balance  in  the  excessive  contrasts  of  pitch  in  the  case 
of  the  Slavs! 

A  child  devoid  of  rhythmic  feeling  will  punctuate  a 
song  in  the  same  manner  as  that  in  which  he  moves, 
while  walking  and  gesticulating.  But  there  are  consid- 
erable differences  in  rhythmic  aptitudes,  and  innumer- 
able gradations  also  in  the  divers  manifestations  of  a 
musical  temperament,  in  respect  of  faculties  of  intona- 
tion and  audition. 

We  find,  at  one  extreme,  children  completely  devoid 
of  rhythmic  and  musical  feeling,  to  whom  all  sound  is 
mere  noise,  and  who,  though  intelligent  generally,  are 
sheer  idiots  musically — their  ears  impervious  even  to 
the  nuances  of  spoken  sounds  (gentleness,  severity, 
irony,  etc.). 

Others  are  endowed  with  well-developed  rhythmic 
sense,  marching  and  gesticulating  in  time  and  with  ease, 
but  are  unable  either  to  distinguish  or  sing  a  tune. 

Others — good  rhythmicians — can  at  first  distinguish 
tunes  only  by  their  rhythms,  and  cannot  recognise 
simple  successions  of  unrhythmic  sounds.  In  these,  once 
they  are  submitted  to  a  training  by  and  in  rhythm,  one 
may  produce  a  longing  to  distinguish  the  sound  of  tunes, 
which  leads  in  time  to  the  attainment  of  this  faculty. 

Others,  again,  are  born  with  good  ear  and  rhythmic 
sense.  .  .  .  But  this  class  may  be  subdivided  into 
infinite  categories  and  sub-categories. 

Good  hearers,  for  example,  may  be  bad  readers  and 
singers,  and  vice  versa. 

Good  hearers  of  isolated  sounds  or  tunes  become  bad 
or  mediocre,  when  it  is  a  question  of  distinguishing 
chords  and  successions  of  harmonies. 


324    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

Good  hearers  may  be  incapable  of  mentally  co-ordi- 
nating and  analysing  their  auditive  sensations. 

Good  hearers  may  be  able  to  appreciate  pianoforte 
music,  but  not  that  of  other  instruments  or  the  human 
voice,  and  vice  versa. 

Good  hearers  may  be  subject  to  periods  of  bad  hearing 
(nervous  depressions  or  over-stimulations),  or,  again, 
may  hear  well  only  during  a  portion  of  the  music  lesson 
(that  probably  where  their  natural  instinct  does  not 
clash  with  mental  effort ;  or  where,  on  the  other  hand, 
fatigue  disturbs  the  mental  concentration  necessary  to 
certain  people  to  assure  good  hearing). 

As  to  the  divers  aptitudes  of  a-rhythmic  subjects, 
they  are  likewise  of  very  different  natures.  Some  of 
them  exhibit: 


1.  Ease  in  conceiving  or  seizing  musical  rhythms,  but 

difficulty  in  expressing  them. 

2.  Ease  in  expressing  rhythms  with  certain  limbs  (e.g., 

the  arms)  and  difficulty  with  others  (for  example, 
in  walking  in  time  or  in  dancing). 

3.  Ease  in  expressing  rhythms  with  the  voice,  diffi- 

culty in  executing  them  with  the  body,  and  vice 
versa. 

4.  Ease  in  executing  rhythms  with  any  limb  or  organ 

separately,  but  not  with  combinations  of  organs  of 
arms  and  legs,  arms  and  voice,  voice  and  legs,  etc. 

5.  Ease  in  executing  known  rhythms,  but  difficulty  in 

distinguishing  and  memorising  unknown  ones. 

6.  Difficulty  in   understanding,   distinguishing,   and 

executing  rhythms,  but  ease  in  continuing  this 
execution  once  they  are  known  and  assimilated, 
and  the  limbs  made  flexible  by  exercises  adapted 
to  the  special  nature  of  the  rhythms. 


Rhythm,  Time,  and  Temperament   325 

7.  Difficulty  in  continuing  correctly  for  long  a  rhythm 

which  has  been  commenced  correctly. 

8.  Difficulty  in  dispensing  with  constant  mental  con- 

trol of  the  body  (whence  arises  a  lack  of  ease 
and  smoothness  in  the  movements  or  the  uncon- 
scious alteration  of  rhythms). 

9.  Difficulty  in  retaining  the  mental  impression  of  a 

rhythm  without  continual  recourse  to  physical 
sensations. 

10.  Difficulty     in     accustoming     limbs     to     certain 

automatisms. 

1 1 .  Difficulty  in  interrupting  automatisms,  whether  ac- 

quired with  ease  or  difficulty. 

12.  Ease  in  acquiring  automatisms  in  certain  limbs, 

difficulty  in  combining  them  with  automatisms  in 
another  limb. 

13.  Ease  in  imagining  and  then  executing  rhythms, 

difficulty  in  executing  rhythms  given  by  another, 
and  vice  versa. 

14.  Ease  in  distinguishing  and  executing  the  most  com- 

plex rhythms,  difficulty  in  distinguishing  the  most 
simple  polyrhythm. 

15.  Ease  in  executing  rhythms  in  a  certain  movement, 

difficulty  in  varying  their  speed. 

1 6.  Ease  in  executing  a  rhythm  without  dynamic  shad- 

ing, difficulty  in  introducing  in  any  kind  of  emo- 
tional accentuation  of  nuance  without  modifying 
the  form. 

17.  Ease  in  shading  a  rhythm,  but  at  the  sacrifice  of 

metrical  accuracy,  etc. 


All  these  difficulties  arise  from: 

Muscular  weakness — Lack  of  nerve  tone — Muscular 
stiffness — Muscular  Hypersensitiveness— Nervous  dis- 
harmony— Lack  of  balance  due  to  inadequate  sense 
of  space — Excessive  intrusion  of  critical  faculties,  pro- 


326    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

ducing  continual  intellectual  resistance — Lack  of  con- 
centration— Lack  of  flexibility  in  analysing — Deficiency 
of  muscular  memory — Deficiency  of  cerebral  memory — 
Lack  of  will-power — Excessive  energy — Deficiency  of 
resolution — Excess  of  self-confidence — Lack  of  self-con- 
fidence, etc. 

I  have  had  occasion  to  note  all  these  defects  and  the 
multiple  combinations  of  their  principal  elements,  in 
children  of  nearly  every  race  and  type,  in  the  course  of 
twenty-five  years'  experience  not  only  in  teaching  eu- 
rhythmies and  developing  auditive  faculties,  but  also 
in  producing  my  action  songs  for  children,  designed  for 
accompaniment  by  gesture.  These  roundelays  have 
been  sung  in  every  country,  and  I  have  often  been 
amazed  to  note  the  extreme  difficulty  the  little  singers 
have  experienced  in  moving  gracefully  to  the  rhythms 
of  the  music,  and  in  counterpointing  the  simplest  melo- 
dies with  gestures  in  time — and  how  resistances  of 
every  kind  impede  the  free  play  of  their  instinctive 
rhythmic  movements.  It  was  the  observation  of  this 
too  common  a-rhythm  that  encouraged  me  to  pursue 
my  physiological  studies  to  the  point  of  instituting  a 
new  form  of  education.  This  education  aims  at  restor- 
ing to  the  child  his  complete  corporal  mechanism  and 
freeing  his  "natural  rhythm"  (that  is,  the  spontaneous 
motor  expansion  of  his  temperament),  from  the  inhi- 
bitions which  too  frequently  impede  its  expansion.  I 
think  I  may  claim,  despite  the  rash  criticisms  of  those 
who  judge  my  method  only  from  its  external  side,  to 
have  thus  created  an  indispensable  complement  to  the 
education  of  children  in  every  country.  If  the  child- 


Rhythm,  Time,  and  Temperament  327 

ren  of  one  country  reveal  blemishes  in  the  motor  sys- 
tem not  to  be  found  in  children  of  another  country, 
there  are  also  appropriate  exercises  to  combat  all  forms 
of  bad  motor  habits,  and  to  transform  them  into  new 
and  good  ones;  the  teaching  of  eurhythmies  should 
certainly  vary  according  to  the  temperament  and  char- 
acter of  the  children  of  every  country  in  which  it  is 
introduced.  It  only  remains  to  persuade  psychologists 
and  educationists  alike  to  direct  their  experimental 
researches  towards  the  study  of  rhythmic  aptitudes  and 
motor  and  auditive  predispositions.  Meanwhile  it  may 
be  of  interest  to  record  certain  observations  of  a  general 
character  on  the  rhythmic  and  musical  aptitudes  of 
children  of  the  countries  I  have  had  most  frequent 
occasion  to  visit.  I  hasten  to  disclaim  any  scientific 
exactitude  for  these  impressions. 

Genevan  children  possess  in  general  a  less  flexible  vocal 
apparatus  than  the  children  of  German  Switzerland. 
Their  capacity  for  distinguishing  sounds,  on  the  other 
hand,  is  more  developed  than  in  the  German-speaking 
cantons,  especially  among  the  middle  classes.  Rhythm- 
ic feeling,  hopelessly  deficient  in  the  old  Genevan 
families,  is  quite  normally  developed  among  the  pro- 
letariat, where  it  is  not  perverted  by  pronounced 
nervous  and  intellectual  resistances.  In  German  Switz- 
erland, as  in  South  Germany,  metrical  feeling  is  more 
conspicuous  than  rhythmic  feeling,  and  a  superficially 
rhythmic  individuality  is  often  marred  by  extreme  mus- 
cular stiffness,  prohibiting  the  dynamic  and  agogic 
shading  necessary  for  the  externalisation  of  natural 
rhythms.  This  stiffness  is  far  less  common  in  the  Rhine 


328     Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

provinces,  and  is  only  rarely  found  in  Austria  and 
Hungary.  In  these  two  countries,  movements  possess 
an  extraordinary  elasticity  and  variety,  as  among  the 
working  population  of  certain  Russian  provinces.  But 
this  refinement  of  rhythmic  feeling  and  capacity  for 
shading  movements  is  counterbalanced,  in  Austria  by 
a  mental  versatility  often  disconcerting,  and  in  Russia, 
among  the  intelligenzia,  by  a  hypersensitiveness,  pro- 
ducing the  same  inhibitions  as  the  introspective  excesses 
that  de-rhythmicise  Genevan  society.  Auditive  facul- 
ties, highly  developed  in  Austria,  are  very  slight  in 
Russia,  where,  moreover,  the  vocal  powers  of  children 
are  frequently  of  a  deplorably  low  standard.  I  am 
speaking,  of  course,  of  the  children  and  adults  whom  I 
have  had  occasion  to  teach,  and  whose  studies  and  inter- 
pretations have  been  conducted  under  my  control. 

In  Germany,  where  the  love  and  cultivation  of  music 
is  more  general  than  anywhere  else,  the  auditive  sense 
is  certainly  not  more  refined  than  in  any  other  country. 
Extreme  mental  slowness — combined  in  males  with  an 
excess  of  self-confidence — impedes  the  functioning  of 
the  agents  of  analysis,  or,  at  any  rate,  involves  a  con- 
siderable waste  of  time  between  sensations  and  deduc- 
tions. This  defect  is  compensated,  especially  among 
women,  by  qualities  of  perseverance  and  assimilation, 
rarely  to  be  met  with  among  the  Slavs,  whose  sudden 
enthusiasms,  ardent  aspirations,  and  commendable  am- 
bitions for  intellectual,  artistic,  and  social  progress  are 
counteracted  by  their  irresolution  and  constant  crises 
of  moral  depression  and  distrust  of  self. 

Swedish  children  are  remarkably  well  endowed  with 
rhythmic  faculties,  and  possess  quite  naturally  a  feeling 


Rhythm,  Time,  and  Temperament   329 

for  bodily  harmony.  I  have  not  had  sufficient  oppor- 
tunity of  following  the  development  of  their  auditive 
faculties  to  enable  me  to  speak  authoritatively  on  the 
subject,  but  their  musical  feeling  and  vocal  capacities 
are  certainly  above  the  average.  The  primary  schools 
lay  great  stress  on  gymnastics,  and,  in  recent  years — 
music,  the  stimulating  influence  of  which  was  perceived 
by  their  great  educationist  Ling.  A  movement  is  in 
vogue  in  that  country  for  the  revival  of  folk-songs  and 
dances,  spontaneous  representations  of  which  by  school 
children  in  the  open  air  may  be  witnessed  in  all  parts  of 
the  country.  In  Norway,  musical  instruction  in  schools 
also  shows  an  upward  tendency,  while  musical  aptitudes 
are  approximately  the  same  as  in  Sweden.  The  charm- 
ing old  town  of  Bergen  holds  a  largely  attended  public 
orchestral  concert  twice  daily,  and  the  children  emerge 
from  their  schools  singing  and  dancing.  The  plastic 
talents  of  these  children  are  no  less  pronounced  in 
country  districts  than  in  the  towns.  One  may  see  little 
peasant  children,  after  a  few  months'  physical  training, 
moving  with  really  marvellous  grace  and  natural  balance. 

One  finds  the  same  ease  of  movement  in  Danes,  but 
this  quality  is — with  rare  exceptions — not  applied  to 
such  refined  aesthetic  conceptions  as  with  Swedes.  The 
obsolete  cult  of  "grace  for  grace's  sake"  is  still  in  force 
there,  and  the  public,  infatuated  with  ballet  dancing, 
appreciates  hardly  any  but  external  virtuoso  effects. 
In  purely  musical  gifts  they  appear  to  me  to  be  entirely 
deficient,  and  Denmark  requires,  more  than  any  other 
country,  a  thorough  overhauling  of  its  system  of  musical 
training  in  schools. 

Dutch   children,   are  naturally   good   singers,   less 


330    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

good  at  hearing,  and  fairly  rhythmic.  All  these  facul- 
ties are  admirably  developed,  thanks  to  the  constant 
individual  efforts  of  several  distinguished  education- 
ists. But  their  aesthetic  sense  and  taste  for  moving 
plastic  are  unfortunately  perverted  by  their  poverty  of 
muscular  elasticity,  looseness  of  tissue,  and  defective 
corporal  build.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  an  intensive 
physical  culture  will  lead,  as  in  Sweden,  to  a  develop- 
ment of  motor  aptitudes. 

The  movements  of  English  children  are  not  restrained 
by  any  of  the  inhibitions  encountered  so  commonly 
among  Slav  and  Latin  peoples.  They  have  none  of  the 
muscular  stiffness  or  mental  dullness  of  the  German, 
and  are  free  from  nervous  and  intellectual  weakness, 
possessing  a  highly  flexible  corporal  mechanism  and  a 
very  special  capacity  for  plastic  and  rhythmic  expres- 
sion. But  if  the  development  of  Russian  children  is 
impeded  by  their  hypersensitiveness  and  frequent 
nervous  disturbances,  that  of  the  English  suffers  from  a 
contrary  tendency.  Their  lack  of  nervous  sensitiveness 
deprives  them  of  emotional  emphasis,  and  their  easy 
and  graceful  movements  are  devoid  of  elasticity  and 
dynamic  shading.  Their  muscular  tension  rarely  at- 
tains a  degree  equal  to  the  minimum  among  the  Latins. 
As  to  their  actual  musical  feeling,  it  is  by  no  means  of 
so  low  a  standard  as  is  generally  asserted  on  the  Con- 
tinent. The  people  undoubtedly  love  music,  and  their 
hearing  and  vocal  capacities  are  normal.  As  in  Sweden, 
the  old  folk-songs  have  regained  a  position  of  honour;  it 
is  quite  common  to  see  children  dancing  and  singing 
in  the  streets,  and  their  choral  singing  in  the  frequent 
popular  performances  of  old  English  mystery  plays  is 


Rhythm,  Time,  and  Temperament  331 

remarkable  for  its  accuracy  and  balance.  On  the  other 
hand,  music  is  too  commonly  regarded,  in  social  circles, 
as  a  mere  accomplishment,  and  its  cultivation  in  schools 
and  private  musical  academies  is  largely  superficial  and 
conventional.  Once  the  efforts  of  the  reconstruction 
enthusiasts  have  succeeded  in  obtaining  a  due  regard 
for  music  and  Eurhythmies  in  the  school  curriculum, 
the  English  people  will  not  be  slow  in  attaining  a  stand- 
ard worthy  of  the  descendants  of  the  great  composers 
who  represented  it  so  honourably  in  the  seventeenth  and 
eighteenth  centuries. 

I  have,  unfortunately,  not  had  the  opportunity  of 
studying  French,  Italian,  and  Spanish  children  ade- 
quately to  express  a  definite  opinion  on  their  capacities. 
Musical  education  is  very  lightly  regarded  in  their 
schools,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  their  musical  students 
rarely  emerge  from  their  respective  countries.  I  have, 
however,  had  occasion  to  observe  the  French  students  of 
my  Eurhythmic  Institute  at  Geneva;  I  have  also  at- 
tended performances  of  my  children's  songs  in  various 
important  provincial  schools,  and  been  present  at 
Eurhythmies  classes  in  Paris.  .  .  .  The  feeling  for 
vigorous  accentuation  seemed  to  me  far  more  developed 
than  in  England,  but  there  was  less  ease  of  movement, 
and  the  stiffness  of  gait  and  gesture  seemed  curiously 
inconsistent  with  the  mental  and  imaginative  flexibility 
of  the  people.  I  do  not  attribute  this  coarseness  to  either 
nervous  or  intellectual  causes :  it  is  more  probably  due 
to  the  absurd  fear  of  ridicule  which  produces,  both  in 
the  family  and  at  school,  an  excessive  repression  of 
physical  manifestation  of  feeling,  too  often  accompanied 
by  reserve  due  to  sex  feeling.  It  is  gratifying  to  find 


332     Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

that  sport  has  at  last — thanks  to  the  efforts  of  a  few 
influential  persons — entered  the  curriculum  of  masculine 
education,  but  physical  culture  does  not  yet  form  part 
of  the  training  of  children,  being  reserved  for  adults, 
while  intellectual  rather  than  physical  or  musical 
games  are  cultivated  at  schools.  Even  among  the  peo- 
ple— I  speak  of  the  Parisian  people,  the  only  ones  whom 
I  know  well — dancing  aptitudes  are  little  developed, 
and  public  balls  are  patronised  chiefly  by  professional 
dancers,  whose  grace  is  often  not  over-marked  at  that. 
Once  let  them  cultivate  their  natural  individual  gifts — 
as  they  do  on  the  stage — and  they  will  show  evidence  of 
sufficient  artistic  feeling  and  imagination  to  furnish  high 
hopes  for  the  development  of  rhythmic  bodily  move- 
ments among  the  people,  so  soon  as  steps  are  taken 
in  that  direction.  Incidentally,  French  children  love 
movement,  and  I  have  noticed  in  several  classes  of 
suburban  elementary  schools  with  what  delight  the 
children  took  to  Eurhythmies,  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
with  what  amazement  school  inspectors  regarded  their 
great  joy. 

From  the  auditive  and  vocal  points  of  view,  the  same 
obstacles  impede  the  normal  development  of  natural 
aptitudes.  The  Frenchman,  as  a  musician,  reveals 
artistic  qualities  of  the  first  order,  a  highly  flexible 
sensitiveness,  an  innate  sense  of  proportion  and  balance, 
and  a  delicate  feeling  for  nuances.  But  efforts  should 
be  made  in  this  country  to  liberate  music  from  its 
monopoly  by  the  aristocracy,  and  to  introduce  it,  by 
a  greater  care  for  the  inner  life  of  the  child,  to  the 
homes  of  the  people — where,  at  present,  it  appears 
to  be  in  uncongenial  surroundings.  One  never  hears 


Rhythm,  Time,  and  Temperament   333 

French  children  spontaneously  singing  national  folk- 
songs, on  school  excursions,  nor  is  part-singing  cul- 
tivated by  students  in  their  social  gatherings.  And 
yet  there  is  no  dearth  of  choral  works  available  for 
execution. 

It  will  be  seen  from  these  summary  observations  that 
rhythmic  and  musical  instincts  vary  according  to  the 
natural  dispositions  of  races. 

They  are  not  the  same  in  Russia  as  in  England,  in 
France  as  in  Sweden,  in  French  as  in  German  Switzer- 
land, even  in  Lausanne  as  in  Geneva. 

In  certain  countries,  dynamic  feeling  and  the  sense 
of  intensity  of  nervous  reactions  require  to  be  developed, 
and  more  frequent  and  spontaneous  motor  manifesta- 
tions provoked ;  in  others,  on  the  contrary,  quite  other 
results  should  be  sought,  nervous  manifestations  requir- 
ing to  be  tempered,  and  the  dynamic  play  of  muscles 
softened.  In  one  country,  vocal  training,  in  another  the 
development  of  hearing  faculties,  will  require  special  at- 
tention. In  every  country,  Jewish  children  should  be 
specially  urged  to  undergo  a  training  in  Eurhythmies,  for, 
while  their  musical  faculties  and  artistic  intelligence  are 
in  general  of  a  remarkably  high  order,  their  a-rhythm 
and  lack  of  harmony  in  motor  and  nervous  functions 
are  liable  to  hamper  their  aesthetic  development  and 
their  attainment  of  intellectual  and  physical  balance. 

These  remarks,  however  disjointed,  are  based  on  a 
whole  series  of  positive  experiments,  rarely  before 
attempted  by  psycho-physiologists.  Every  people  is 
capable  of  evolving  to  its  advantage  or  disadvantage 
according  to  the  care  with  which  its  children  are  reared 


334    Rhythm,  Music,  and  Education 

from  infancy.  Whatever  the  curriculum  or  scholastic 
methods  in  vogue,  it  is  essential  for  the  progress  of 
every  race,  that  education  should  aim  primarily  at  the 
formation  of  character,  and  the  cultivation  of  tempera- 
ment, and  should  comprise — with  regard  to  music — 
the  development  of  auditive  and  vocal  faculties,  and 
the  harmonisation  of  motor  habits. 


MUSICAL   SUPPLEMENT. 


EXAMPLE  N«I. 

a)  Lengthening  a  note  by  half  its  value. 


O— e    O 


J.  .   J  J 
J-. 
J-..  J"J 


#o/  tf/Vipr  a  note. 
JTwo  rfo/j  after  a  note. 
Three  dots  after  a  note. 


b)  Lengthening  a  note  by  one  quarter  of  its  value. 


o:  -  o  0 

o:-  -00 
o«:=  o  A 


J  :•  =  J 
J  •:  =  J 


The  second  dot  under  the  first. 

>4  rfb/  after  the  two  dots,  one  above  the  other. 

-/too  «fc/«f  o«tf  «^ot'<?  the  other  after  the  first  dot. 


c)  Lengthening  a  note  by  one  eighth  of  its  value. 


o- 


':-_    o 


J:=J 


Three  dots  one  above  the  other,  etc....  etc.  . . 


Notation  Of  the  note-value  of  V|  Of  a  Semibreve  0  Q/Worailonof  the  iiuteA-alueOf  Vsofa  S<-nnbrr>e   J 

•  I 

j 

I  "I  j' 

„  ,.  '*  ,.          J: 

« 


EXAMPLE  NO 


8/4 


lS/4 


3 

8 

6 

2 

4 

1  7 

8 

r 

or  ». 

or    1. 

c  -   4 

f 

r 

f 

O 

o: 
o- 

O" 

M 
W: 


* 


12/8 


O 
o: 


o: 

o- 


9 

3 

6 

6 

8 

r- 

4 

r 

^)    — 

2 

etc,  etc. 

r 

*  EXAMPLE  N93. 


1)  LENGTHENING  OF  A  BEAT.  (Pause  written  out:  Agogic  accent.) 


2)  ADDITION  OF  A  REST.  (Ritenuto,  Hesitation,  Agogic  resistance.) 


8)  REPETITION  OF  A  BEAT    OR  A  RHYTHMIC  ELEMENT. 


[fir 


4)  ADDITION  OF  AN  APPOGGIATURA.  Extension  or  Expressive  amplification  of 
a  melodic  and  rhythmic  element. 


5)  ADDJNG  OR  LENGTHENING  BY  AN  ANACRUSIS  OR  A  METACROUSE .  ENLARGEMENT 
OF  A  MELODIC  LINE. 


RHYTHMIC  ELEMENT  BY  TWICE  A 


W  AND 


y J  JiiJ  riff  r  J  ir  r  J  ir  J]iJ  j, j  h . j  j  i  m 

'+  I          4.   -f  *"^      +  ^»    -^  R*  ] 

_*.  Va.      ^ 


b)  DOUBLING  THE  LENGTH  OF  A  BAR  . 


C)  HALTING  THE  LENGTH  OF  A  BEAT. 


tJ'j^J  j  '••  ' 

*    *   * 


COMBINING  THE  DIFFERENT  PROCESSJESWDICATED  IN  PRECEDING  PAGE 

T       ^  T .  -i  "*—  »«•*.       «       _   -f 


EXAMPLE  N?4. 


2-W  .. 

»     ,      "•*::ir^ 

=^=1 

w  *   •—  - 

••••-« 

^•* 

•  *•  - 

*••  •^«^; 

•  •"  • 

a>  I- 


e)  DIFFERENT  BAR-TIMES.  (Twice  as  fast  or  slow.) 


EXAMPLE  N9  5. 

ANALYSIS  AND  COMBINATION  OF  TIME  ELEMENTS  CONSTITUTING  A  RHYTHM. 

1         2       ft 
Theme.    li  J      J     Jj  I' is  composed  of  three  element*.  II  J    II  j  11/38 

DIFFERENT  COMBINATIONS  OF  THESE  ELEMENTS. 

I*  j  j  fj  j  j ntnnnati  su  sxnsu  Jii'j3  j  j  /3 » 

f^J  J3JI*J  /3J  I'J3J  JlFJ  J?J  llkJ3^J  j  H'J  J  J  H 
|"J  J  J  PJ  J  J  I'J^J  VtfJ  J7J7J  |'J3J3J  I'^J  J  l»c. 


With  anacruses.  * 

jTjjlljTj  U  /sm  J  J  JfJl.nj-3Jl 

"  '  "lS/3/3l  J  'F/3/3Jl|J'|lJ  J1J  |  J'| 


JJ  J  I  JII'J   J^l  J  1'JI J  I  J  TJ  J  |J  Jlfj  J  J  | 

J~3   I  J^'l  etc 


j  J?JN 


EXAMPLE  N«  6. 

ACTIVITY  AND  REST.  —  CONTRAST  AND  BALANCE. 

A)  ^4  rhythm  several  times  repeated,  followed  by  a  rest  the  value  of  the  whole 
rkythm. 

.  IJJTJJ. 


CONTRASTS  OBTAINED  BY  SHORTER  RESTS.  (Rest  the  value  of  one  beat) 

*>  ft/73  J.  I  j._y73  j.  T.  -L/n  J-  >  T  I 

CONTRAST  OBTAINED  BY  A  DIFFERENT  RHYTHM  LESS  IMPORTANT,  (a  link  to  join 
two  rhythms.)  o 

3)i  jrfcj.  Ijrnj.  IJJTJJ.  I  /t 


B)  ^4n  unfinished  rhythm  followed  by  an  incomplete  bar. 

4)1  JjJ^ 

CONTRAST  BY  REPEATING  A  RHYTHMIC  ELEMENT. 

«  I  ^/nj 

0  Rhythm  with  anacrusis.  Contrast  by  the  omission  of  the  anacrusis^ 

6)1  r  JSSiJ^V  J^I/»^  J373|JT73)MJ^n 

D)  Contrast  obtained  by  different  tone  quantity,  (dynamic  shading.) 

7)1  JTIJU  J    J.I.T3.U  J    Jvl.T3.hJ  J    J>| 


J 


r         ___-      _       "or 


or 


or 

J      -h 


E)  Contrast  obtained  by  a  change  of  harmony  or  melody. 


8) 


r 


r 


f 


etc. 


F)  Contrast  obtained  by  variation  of  tempo  (agpgic  shading) 

' 


i  of  tempo  (aeogic 
G)  Contrast  obtained  by  different  articulate 


•Aj.-.. 

Jn  i  Contrast  by  change  of  bar-time. 


ID 


I)  Con  hast  by  diminution  of  a  rhythm  (twice  as  fast.) 


J   I 


b)  6y  augmentation  of  a  rhythmic  element  (twice  as  slow  ) 
13)||  JJJJJJ/TJ1  |    J*  |  -^  |  JJJJJJJ 
C)  by  diminution    (three  times  as  fast). 

<i4>ii  5Tj»j  |j.  j>j  u.  jo 

J  Khythrak  squan:nebb  of  classical  composers  not  necessary  for  phrase  balance 
y 


Wiythratc  contrast  is  sufficient. 

2  bars  -  •  i  -  •  8  ban* 


is) 


. .  .    g  oars  — i  |  — -i 

|J  J  J999IJ  J  J993I  J.  U  J  JTOIxIxlJ.  I 


4  bars 


ibar 


,  -  -  .          j 

|j  J  JOTUUIxl  J.U  J  J335I  J.U 


ibar 


J.I 


Contrast  obtained  by  the  alln-nation  of  another  rhythm 


L)  Two  rhythms  alternating  and  followed  by  an  arrest. 
Bkythm  A.  |  J    /I  J    J     | 


ShyOm 

DirfERJEJfT  COMBINATIONS. 

1)    AABkiU^ilBBA-ABAB-BBABA- 
t)      ABB  -  BABA-A-B-BAAAB 


EXAMPLE  N97. 

SUBDIVISION  OF  LONG  NOTE-VALUES  IKIO  DIFFERENT  GROUPINGS. 


TXtf  combination  of  a  beat  of  8 


beat  of  2  Jj  in  a  bar  of  JL 

Example. 


Unequal  beats  may  be  formed  on  the  eame  principle  in  any  kind  of  bar,  eg: 
3)  A  BAR  OF 

3  3 


Irregular  divisions  (unequal  beut*}  . 


h)  In  4  unequal  beats.    |j 


U 

C)  in  3  unequal  beat  s  .     || 


V_w  r* — r-  r==w 

^a"  ^•••^^•^^••••i  ^^^        -        T 


1 


d)  In  2 unequal  beats.    |E2 

f) 

•»  ™ _ 

""^^^ffl 
n)  The  same  rhythm  in  1 


^ 


i)  The  same  rhythm  in  8  unequal  beats ^g 
4)  A  BAR  or  £- 


'  -  >>•  n  r?  n  n  >-k^ 

to  Irregular divisions  (unequal  beats.)\  SJ?^  ^^  J,  J  •  J  '   rf   • 


C)  In  4  unequal  beats. 


e.i   Tn  tu>o  unequal  beats.  fc-~ 
f )  Rhythms. 


-p-cccnr 


h)  7n  three  unequal  beats.  E3 


5)    A  BAR  OF   i«        , 

?      aJ 


"  I  II  I   1 1     I      I   U  I  U     I    J  U  1  I    ' 


6)    A  BAR  O 


J3 J3 JJJ3JJ JJi  JJJJT3 J 


B)    Irregular  divisions  ^unequal  beats)T 

I  \ 


A)  Regular  ettvisions\  §-. 


B)  Rhythms  urith  unequal  beats. 


8)  CONTRASTS  OF  DIFFERENT  SUBDIVISIONS  OF  LONG  NOTE-VALUES  IN  SIMUL- 
TANEOUS MELODIES.  aMj  ,       .       .  fc*  n  n  n  ri  n 

\  r ^•••••••••••ll     i 

A)  Regular 
divisions. 


B)   Irregular 
divisions. 


r 
jn 

JTI  jn 

r  r  r  r 
_m  _n  _n_n 

M  i  i     m  n  m» 


EXAMPLE  NO  8. 
i;  MELODY  IN  4  WTTH  UNEQUAL  BEATS. 


10 


2)  MELODY  WITH  UNEQUAL  BARS. 


8)  MELODY  WITH  UNEQUAL  BEATS. 

? 


4)  SYNCOPATIONS  OFUMEQUAL  NOTE-YALDES. 


12  EXAMPLE  N99. 

CHANGING  THE  TEMPO  BY  TRANSFERRING  THEBEATTOADIFFERENTNOTETOLUB. 

1  J"7?3JJJJJJ  -TTQ  I  fyn  n  I  fTfl  JT2 


.  4  of  the  f  receding  triplet. 


EXAMPLEN910.  Rests 

r<?J(  ?n  a  stronff  beat  is  stronger  than  one  on  a  weak  beat. 


Hrj(tfjiJ/JlJJ»JJ*IJ.I.UJ  J      JJJ. 


ll'j'ft  UJiJJIJ  J>  J  J  Jl»  JJ  J»  J  I  «.    II 

W  f  „  "v 

b)  7%^  importance  of  a  rest  corresponds  to  the  role  played  by  the  sound  which 

it  replaces  inthe  musical  phrase.  A  rest  which  lasts  for  a  whole  bar  ismore 
^important  than^  a  rest  which  lasts  for  one  beat  only. 


*Notice  the  *#fc"in  this  last  rest. 

c)  Crescendi,  diminuendi,  accelerandi  and  ritardandi  continue  during  tests. 
Q gccgfer        -  an  .    do ,     i    .    rite  -  nu  .  to 

d)  A  rest  replacing  a  rhythm  anticipated  (dramatic  effect). 
Agitato,.. __* 


e)  The  length  of  a  rest  can  vary.  (Extending  and  contracting  metrical 
F  f          f       .    .       r  f  f  Perio 

1'  Jrrl  -  'JJ^I  -U^-f-ri  -  iJJj  i 


13 


Jii-fjruM — A 


r 


«• 

f)  Rests  gradually  replacing  the  anacrusis  of  a  rhythm. 


/ 

h)  Gradual  exhaustion. 


i)  Re-commencement. 


(The  interpretation  of  the  return  of  a  theme  after  a  silence  varies  accord. 
.ing  to  the  character  of  the  preceding  rhythm.) 

j)    Force  or  accent  can  persist  during  a  period  of  silence. 

Ltfl  j^jij  j>i  j»  /a  jj  J>i  ^i  Ji  ju  tyty//  1  J"  -^  -• 

k)   Fatigue  can  persist  after  a  period  of  silence. 

I  J»  J1JJ  JJ  >J3AJJ>I^J1AJ  J4J»>  >  >  I  Jw  J3JJ  J 

/  >J*  PPPPPP  PP 

1)     Gradually  increasing  during  the  silence  up  to  the  return  of  a  theme. 

UnJi.hJ.hi-M.r3JJ  JU'JIJJ  J>lJ>n 

>  .........  ...................    .......................  ?»/»— 

m)  Relaxing  during  silence. 


l 

/- 


EXAMPLE  SONATA  Op.lO.  N9  3.  (Rondo.) 

Allegro.    Rhythmic  swing  interrupted T^tf  ftu«      m^UF*R  S* 


BlfTHOVIH. 


See  also: 

Mozart,  Sonata 
for  piano,  in  C  minor. 

(assai  allegro.) 


EXAMPLE  N9  ll.     HALVING  THE  VALUE  OF  A  BEAT, 
a)  J)  Without  anacrusis.          With  anacrusis. 

II J     J    'I   J~2   H  J     I    J  '  J>  I    J»     i 

(Feminine  rhythm.)  (Masculine  rhythm.) 

This  halving  of  note-values  is  frequently  met  with  in  both  classical  and  modem 
works,  but  it  IB  rare  with  an  anacrusis. 
2)   Without  anacrusis.      With  anacrusis.  . 

IJ  J  J  'I  JT3I=J  IJ  J  \M  Jl-U'J  J  I  J 


,?.)  Without  anacrusis.  —    . 

i  j  j  j  j  Hi  rm  i 


anacrusis. 


. 

=i 


|J  J  I  J   J'Jl  I  r3!U    J   J  I  J'JTl  |  J>4 

t^    DOUBLING  THE  TALUE  OF  A  BEAT. 

1)  Without  anacrusis.         .    With  anacrusis. 

,    FJ   J  'I  J     J    *  J   I  J  '  J     I  J     4 

.?;  Without  anacrusis.  With  anacrusis. 

I'JJ  JU  J  J  *JIJ  J'J  IJ  J*JJlJ'J  J  U4 

etc. 
c)  SUCCESSIONS  OF  AUGMENTATIONS  AND  DIMINUTIONS. 

(Irregular  circulation  of  the  bloodj  The  exact  repetition  of  a  rhythm  twice 
as  fast  or  twice  as  slow  produces  unequal  bars. 


J'IJTJIJ  J'J  u     'J  4 


IS 


*. 


s- 

d)  SYNCOPATIONS  TWICE  AS  FAST  AND  TWICE  AS  SLOW. 
(Most  of  the  following  rhythms  are  found  in  Oriental  music.) 
1)  Without  anacrusis. 


JIf 


J^JJJ    Jj^l    J    J  J  =1 


5. 


lfJT3J3JT]    J 


J  J     J  J     J  JTH 


e)  MELODIES  WITH  AUGMENTATION  AND  DIMINUTION. 

?  » 


f)    A  COMPOUND  BEAT  (TERNARY)  THREE  TIMES  AS  FAST  OR  SLOW. 


(To  find  thrice  the  speed  of  a  note,  divide  it  into  3  parts  and  use  only  Vs.) 

2.  .Tj.'.h  i  jTjrrTTj.'^rr^: 


3. 


16 


g)  QUADRUPLE  RHYTHMS  3  TIMES  AS  FAST  OR  AS  SLOW.  (Without  altering 
length  of  darj  J>_  J>  ofthetriplet. 

Three  times   r&  §J3  SJ3  HJ3  Hi  JjHjjJJ  J  J  JJ  JJ^JJj 

.^---.-------^ 


1. 


<w  /af/. 


Mathematical  _ 
no/a/ion. 


times 
*'      as  slow. 


3.  Rhythms. 


/IJetc. 
h)     AN  ISOLATED  BEAT  TWICE  OR  THREE  TIMES  AS  FAST  OR  SLOW. 

i.  u  J  JlJ  iJuJiJU  J>JT3j|j  J/3JU  j  j: 


IJ 


U  nnRl  U 
J1JT3U  J"J  JT3IJ 


0    AN  ISOLATED  SYNCOPATION  TWICE  OR  THREE  TIMES  AS  FAST  OR  AS  SLOW. 


_ 

I  J".J-  J-  J-  I  J:     J:     J:     Jj  J 


4.  ||J. 

Inf  rsved  *  Prtnttd\r  HIKDIRSON  A  SPALDINO,  Ltd.,  SylY»n  Oror«,  London,  S.  I.  15. 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


!    v    3^ 


2  0  APR  -4  15 


09       '4  52PM 


09MAY-lsopM 


LIB. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRAm 'FACILITY 


A     000  993  995     0 


